


Subsequential

by jll



Series: Undisclosed [2]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, William Floyd, please note that my knowledge of colonial times stops at my high school graduation, post-Treaty of Paris, tags will change with time, the briefest glimpse of Washington
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jll/pseuds/jll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benjamin's done what he can to make a middle ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Winter's setting in fast. Falling into the Delaware nearly seven years ago should have made Benjamin less sensitive to the cold, but he's still burrowing into a the wool blanket. For the past few days he's been bounced from place to place. The war's over. Washington will bid the officers farewell soon. There's no need for a scout or a decoding a message. He's in limbo. Too high ranking to just return home, but not important enough to do anything. He's mainly been staying in his tent with Caleb, who's stuck around even though he's been dismissed. Benjamin's glad for the warmth all hours of the day. During the nights, eh curls as close to Caleb as he can manage. 

But Caleb's been keeping a distance. Benjamin can see the worry in his eyes, that one Ben gets his orders everything between them will stop. Again.

Even now, Caleb's sidled next to him while they play a game, but won't curl his arms around Benjamin. Only twice in the pat month has Caleb kissed him. One was the day at Yorktown. The other was one of the last warm afternoons. Benjamin had been trying to wrestle some saplings out of his way in the woods but ended up laughing while the branches found every way up his sleeves. Caleb had wrapped both hands around his head, molding his fingertips into Benjamin's skull.

The looks got worse after that. Right now, he's watching the flaps of the tent swell with the wind. But they both know that any day, Benjamin's going to go where the army needs him. It's all paperwork for now, so he could end up anywhere. And Caleb would be left to return to Setauket. 

The though of being separated makes the future seem to stretch on forever. Benjamin would give his blood for the country and has. He'd do more for Caleb. Except he can't do both. He can't drag Caleb behind him around New York. the man would hate it in the city. their minimal interactions now would cease to exist with so many eyes everywhere. he'd be keeping Caleb just to have him. Benjamin would be just as miserable in Setauket, knowing he could be doing more. But he'd have a house on a quiet road with no one to bother them. 

"How do you know what you want?"

"Well, I don't do so much thinking, for starters." Caleb's hair has grown scraggly again and it tickles the side of Benjamin's face as he talks.

"Then how are you supposed to know what it is?" He turns then, so that he can look at Caleb. "You can't just know."

"I do. It's in here," he pushes against Benjamin's waistcoat. "All the answers are right there. Do you know what they are?"

"That I want you and this army."

Caleb's expression stays blank. This isn't a surprise. Benjamin's gone between the two three times already. If he leaves, he'll never see Caleb again. 

"Maybe I'm just thinking too hard, like you aid." He draws the blanket tighter around his shoulders, wishing again that he could sit with Caleb like this at a fire. "Or maybe I should tell Washington that I want to make my own position. Organize some small corner of the army while you row us around in a boat."

That gets a small chuckle and he relaxes at the sound. But his mind is also working. Others of his rank are going to be vying for the jobs in New York, those with more importance. But there's going to be officers stationed farther out, in town across the country. 

"Hold those thoughts. I'll be right back."

It's even colder outside the tent. There's no way he's going to be able to put in a request yet, he thinks. Washington just returned to New York and the country is still getting on its feet. But when he enters the farmhouse there's only a few people milling about. A major general is going through a large stack of letters.

"General, I understand that this is trivial and unimportant, but I have something I'd like to mention before you assign us our posts."

"Tallmadge, there isn't enough room in the capital for everyone. The British tried that."

"Actually, I'd like to offer my name for anywhere else."

The general looks up from the papers. "Are you saying you don't want to serve in this army?"

"No, sir." He hadn't actually had time to think through his argument completely on the walk over. "I studied to be a schoolteacher. Until the war, I was a superintendent. We're not fighting anymore, and I would be of no use in the capitol. If I can, I'd like to continue serving while I get back to work."

"All right," he nods. "We'll find you a place. You taught in Connecticut?"

"Yes, sir."

Nothing more is said. The entire conversation look less than a minute. The uncertainty in between his ribs is beginning to unwrap. This is what Caleb meant. Seven years of the shit he put Caleb through could have been avoided if he just had that talk with him in their first tent.

Caleb is gone when he returns. There's no other place for him to stay on camp, considering he's been sleeping in the cot opposite. Ben takes to the woods. Caleb's first instincts are to head to the trees. He never goes very far. just being outside always relaxed him, even when it was the middle of January and piss would freeze before it hit the ground. 

He's pacing when Benjamin catches up to him. They're within a couple feet of each other when Caleb removes his hat and throws it at Benjamin's face. "What did you do?" He's angry and the action confuses Benjamin, who's still giddy.

"Connecticut." The words come out winded. "I'll be in Connecticut."

Caleb doesn't move. he looks more puzzled than anything right now. "You'll come with me, right?" He hadn't considered the possibility that Caleb wouldn't want him. That he's hanging around so Benjamin doesn't get hurt. "You want this too...Do you want me?"

"God, Ben." He's backed against a tree as Caleb buries one hand in his hair and the other behind his waist. He doesn't kiss Benjamin, but presses their faces so close he can feel Caleb's eyelashes. 

"Is that...? Are you coming with me?"

"Yes, Tallboy." Caleb's breath puffs exasperatedly. "Didn't you learn anything at Yale?"

"I learned how much it hurt to be apart from you." He in to hug Caleb, shivering in the wind off the water. "This is it. Everything worked out. We're both alive at the end of the war. I don't ever want to miss you again." 

The cold forces them back to the tent. Caleb stops to grab some stones from the edge of the fire. Wrapped in a spare shirt, they'll keep their feet warm. Caleb lays down in his cot with a small wooden ball rolling between his fingers. Benjamin watches him for a few minutes before crossing the short distance and fitting himself along Caleb's side. 

He's spent too many days and nights laying alone while Caleb was an arm's reach away. He's tired an cold and going to Connecticut, so he at least deserves to be next to Caleb, who continues on as if nothing has changed. With a few adjustments, Benjamin ends up leaning into Caleb to support his head and tucking his arms up between them. Nothing else will happen. Nothing else has happened since the late summer in 1776. But he's not pushing Ben away. 

Sometime in the afternoon Ben dozes off. It's dark when he wakes to someone shaking his shoulder. Caleb's gone, and the stones aren't warm. Turning over, he can see a colonel holding out a section of paper and behind him in Benjamin's bunk is Caleb, hat over his face.

"Your orders, Lieutenant Colonel." Ben stands up and tries to appear awake while he stands at attention. Once the colonel leaves, he sits on the edge of the cot and unfolds the paper. It's start. He'll be stationed in a small village not that far past the state line. Caleb might not take to being away from the shore, but he'll be close to the woods.

So that's it. They're going. He thinks briefly about waking Caleb, but figures that may get him a foot in the face. It's hard to lay back down by himself. But someone has already wandered in while he was asleep. And he so close to getting everything that he can go on for one more night.

____________________________________________

Caleb is a little disgruntled about leaving the coast. But when they head out of camps the day after Washington's farewell and get further into the country, he seems to become comfortable. They won't reach the town for another day. While the horses drink from a stream, Benjamin stretches out beside Caleb in the grass.

"Think this place has got enough free hands to put a roof up? I don't want to be getting snowed on all winter."

"All officers receive lodgings. The town lost residents, so the army bought the deed of a house. Or, took it."

"That's fine and dandy for you, but I'm still a regular." He taps a few fingers together. "I can pick out the lumber fine. I'll just need some hands to get it pieced and nailed together."

"Caleb." He rests a hand on a jittering knee, palm pressed on the inner seam of the trousers. "I thought you'd live with me. If you're comfortable with that, I mean."

"And how will you explain that to your students' parents?"

"I'll say that I don't need three bedrooms, and you're my best friend, so of course I'd offer you a warm house with a roof. Besides, if i wasn't there, you'd never take a bath."

Caleb snorts and shakes his head. "And when spring comes?"

"They'll just have to accept that I want you to live with me." He shakes Caleb's knee. "But if you want to leave, you can. I'd understand if you missed the ocean too much." 

Caleb looks down at him. "You really think I love the fucking ocean more than you?" that's the closest Caleb's come to saying the words in years. As a teenager, they used to fill Ben's face with awe. Maybe he couldn't understand at the time how Caleb could know. He's said it back. He did love Caleb back then. But he loved Caleb for himself, not for Caleb. It's likely he still does. 

"I hope not. What would I do if you self for a boat and some fish?" He pauses. "Well, I'd follow you all the way back."

"You won't need to." Caleb offers nothing else. He's spent the entire war following Ben, heart trailing along in the bloodbaths. Ben will never quite understand. He says he won't let it happen again, but Caleb can feel that prickling at the base of his skull. If an obstacle large enough comes along, Ben will separate himself all over again. That might kill Caleb instantly. This is the deepest Ben's gotten him. Changing it could burst his chest open.

There's a moment when Caleb wants more than anything to roll over on top Ben, just to feel his entire body at one time. But it's best for both of them that he holds back. He has a hard time even touching Ben's elbow. There are a million things he could do wrong.

_____________________________________________

They rent a couple rooms at an inn for the night. It's crowded and warm with the bodies coming in from the col. One of the barmaids spends a good hours watching Benjamin, who in turn watches Caleb, who watches the kitchen. Even when the woman approaches their table, he keeps glancing for more food. He's talkative and flirts with the woman, but keeps a leg pressed against Ben's calf.

Benjamin thinks that over the entire night. When they set out in the morning he's barely slept. He naps for an hour in the middle of the day, but they reach the town not long after. It's small and full of people who know each other. Immediately, the two of them are noticed.

All the same, they continue on until they reach the magistrate. He's a small, wisp of a man who points out the schoolhouse and the road leading towards the house. He explains that there's a small staff there, a housemaid and four field workers. 

It's a straight shot down the road, but the house is set back. it belonged to someone important, judging from size. While Benjamin walks up the front steps he spies Caleb wandering around the side. 

Almost immediately he runs into the housemaid, who appear to have been waiting. "Good afternoon, Colonel Tallmadge." She steps aside. "Your room has been prepared and inner will be ready when you ask."

"That's great. Uh." He spot Caleb's hat out of a window. "A friend of mine is staying. Based on the coming winter, he'll be here for some time."

"I'll open one of the guest rooms now." She curtsies and leaves through another door. 

It's obvious that items have been taken from the house and auctioned off. The entire dining table has is missing, along with all of it's chairs. A modest table and a couple of chairs have taken it's place. The house is very clean, it's just empty.

He's in a study when Caleb catches up. "It's a clear path from that side door to the woods." He places his hat on the desk. 

"The housemaid is setting up another room. I though I should mention you'd be here, and she automatically assumed..."

"It's fine. Probably better to start like that."

"If you think so." Caleb has always been a presence next to him, even when on horseback. Benjamin has trouble sleeping, unable to slow his thoughts. Having Caleb beside him distracts his mind and calms him down. He won't get any sleep tonight.

Caleb nods, already looking through drawers. Benjamin's following him with his eyes when the housemaid appears without a sound. He starts, but Caleb barely reacts. 

"Ah, good. This is Caleb Brewster." He motions. "Caleb, this is...I've no idea what your name is."

"Rachel, sir."

Caleb look up and nods once in greeting. Of the tree of them, he can't stay still. Rachel shows no sign of seeing anything and waits for further instruction. 

"Well, I should see the schoolhouse, but I really need another hour of sleep. Which room should I use?"

"The third on your right, sir."

________________________________

 

Caleb watches Ben slump off. He'd all but passed out when they paused earlier. There's no way he slept through the night. It's good than he can rest, but now Caleb's in a room of a house he does not own with a stranger he does not own. Rachel waits by the door. Caleb's family never owned slaves. Didn't see the use when they had four boys running around. When he visited Abe as a boy, Aberdeen would bustle around him, keeping up with the mess he brought with him. Now he feels like a piece of luggage Ben has brought. 

"I'm just going to-" He opens a window and throws his hat out it before pushing himself through and rolling onto the ground. He's not entirely sure why he did that, but he's out of the room at least. When he stand and looks back, Rachel's peering at him through the window. "This. I." He doesn't know how to explain himself.

He wasn't supposed to still be around. He'd made a promise to himself that if he survived, he'd finish the job. But two months later he's still here. That in itself has thrown him off. But now his entire personality seems to have shifted and he does not like it. There's no way to explain this other than, "I was to die."

Rachel does nothing for a moment. "Come back inside and I'll make you some stew," and she slides the window shut.

 

Caleb sits in the kitchen and watches Rachel pull food and pans out of every corner. She doesn't seem bothered by him being there instead of in the dining room. She wasn't bothered by him jumping through the window, either, so he doubts anything could ruffle her feathers. 

"Did you work here before?" The house is quiet with all the windows shut, and he sounds like he's yelling.

She takes a moment to answer. When she does she lets up on the propriety a little. "Yes. No none in my family ever worked elsewhere. Except now."

"The house used to need more people?"

"The family had eight childrens. They've gone back to England now." She pours the stew into a bowl and slides it across the table. "No need for a houseful of servants now."

They're both in this huge house, wandering around the one man who actually matters. The only difference is that Caleb chose this. "I don't think Ben or I will be much for company. Man doesn't know how to go a day without work."

"And you?" She's sizing him up, trying to figure out how much trouble he'll be.

"Those woods are big." Big and full of resources.

"And you want to be out there in the winter?"

"No need for a whaleboatsman out here. Might as well make myself useful or make myself scarce."

It's looking more and more like it'll be the later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as an idea that wouldn't let me sleep and now I've got over thirty pages of scribbles. Considered posting it, and now here we are. 
> 
> Turns out, in some US schools they teach kids that the American Revolutionary War ended with the Battle at Yorktown. Not true, as I found out while looking up a couple dates.


	2. Chapter 2

Benjamin wakes suddenly when Caleb sits on the edge of the bed. He hadn't even gotten his boots off before he fell asleep. The room is cast in shadow with the sun on the other side of the house. Caleb is just a outline until Benjamin's eyes adjust.

"How long was I asleep?" He sits up against the headboard.

"'Bout an hour and a half." He lays back on top of Benjamin's shins. "What am I supposed to do?"

"While I go to the schoolhouse?" Benjamin rubs a hand over his eyes. "Or in relation to something more specific?

"All the time. I can't exactly run trade out of a boat. Can't do no proper job either."

Benjamin rolls his shoulders to get comfortable. Caleb's always adapted well, he didn't think this would be any different. "You've had other jobs. What would you like to do?" Caleb doesn't respond. He thinks. "Well, maybe we should start with what's needed. I can ask around. I'm sure there's something missing."

"All right."

"I'm sorry I didn't plan things out." He hadn't planned anything. "But I'm happy you're here."

Caleb pulls himself up the bed so they're sitting next to each other. Gently, he presses the back of his hand against Benjamin's. His knuckles are rough and dry. Soon, his skin will start cracking and bleeding. "I'm happy too. Just uneasy."

This is half Benjamin and half the town. The two ways this can turn ass side up is if Benjamin backs out of someone notices and opens their mouth. To Caleb, neither one is less possible than the other. To Benjamin, they ran a spy ring for seven years of a war. He has no intention of leaving Caleb, so if they are able to keep things to themselves, they'll be fine.

"I have a lot to make up to you." Ben hooks his hand over Caleb's. "And that's what I'll do. You're the most important thing to me." Caleb should be happy. That's what Benjamin is working towards.

"You're still an officer, Ben. And a schoolteacher now, too."

"My job is to report to New Haven once a month and read through what gets sent out here. And there can't be more than eight school age children, unless half the town is hidden underground.. Most are too young or too old. I may drive you crazy with how much time I'll spend around you."

"Oh, yeah. You're awful." It's teasing. Caleb means no harm.

Benjamin smiles and rubs his thumb across Caleb's hand. He isn't sure if he should do more. He and Caleb rely on and protect each other so much that their biggest obstacle now is trust. He has no idea about physical contact. Caleb's tasted every part of his body but is cautious now, making him wonder if he should pull back.

It's confusing and Ben just wants to kiss him. That's all he wants for now. But Caleb is acting strange and nothing makes sense and even now the door is ajar and they shouldn't be sitting so close. Even with all of this, Ben wants. He's stuck wondering if Caleb is the same or if he has no desire for Benjamin. It's possible. Benjamin's timing has never been good and his moves to stop their relationship have sometimes followed new explorations. He's lucky Caleb will still be around him.

Benjamin is still thinking things over and watching Caleb's profile when they hear footsteps on the staircase. Caleb returns to the foot of the bed, putting a metre between them. Rachel appears in the doorway.

"Colonel, your horse is ready."

"Thank you." As he leaves the room, he looks back once and finds Rachel watching Caleb. He puts it off, figuring she's as bemused with him as strangers usually are.

____________________________________________

Rachel knew that a single man was moving into the house. That meant three things: she'd be working alone, she'd have to watch her back, and pretty soon there would be some rich young lady coming in and making a fuss. It was always the same with these rich white people. But then this new master comes riding and in and now she's got two men walking around the house and there's still only one of her.

The colonel looks and acts like a military man. He has everything in order, nose in the air, and doesn't know how to tie his own boots unless someone orders him to. His friend though, he looks like someone pulled him out of the mud. He hasn't shaved, combed his hair, and he didn't come into the house until he had walked the entire way around. He's been in the wild too long. How the two of them became friends, she has no idea.

She finds both of them in the study. The friend is pacing the room like an animal in a cage. The colonel looks as if he expects his friend to say something. Neither of them do, so she just goes on. She's barely been there are minute and the colonel leaves.

His friend, Mr. Brewster, itches in his skin. He's got the nervous look of something being hunted. He's not wearing a uniform, so he probably saw action with the Colonel sat in a tent directing armies and learning how to take naps in the middle of the day. Mr. Brewster barely gets a word out before he flees the room. Through the window. Rachel's so dumbfounded that when she goes to the window she can't do anything but stare. Nothing has ever been afraid of her before, not even the crows when she tried to chase them off.

Whatever the man's worried about, at some point it's going to get in her way. Might as well start him off with a hot meal. He's still jittery in the kitchen, but he talks fast, like he's trying to get his words out before the thought finishes. The man's a talker, though one couldn't tell now. He talks to her strangely, like she's not making him food because she's has to. There's no way to tell if he's trying to trick or or just doesn't give a damn. At some point she's going to have to explain the house, so she talks about that until he goes to wake the Colonel. She was to wake him after just an hour, but he'd told her to wait.

Still, she's the one who had to get the man out of bed and onto a horse so he can go into town. She gives him a few extra minutes and then ascends the stairs. The colonel's awake, but he's looking at Mr. Brewster. He doesn't look angry or confused. He's just watching.

For the rest of the afternoon, Rachel puts dinner together. Out the window, she can see Mr. Brewster digging into the soil and walking the fields. A couple of times he stares at the house, head tilted up to take it all in. out there, in the remains of the pitiful last harvest, he looks like he's going to vanish into the soil.

_____________________________________________

From her room, Rachel can see the back of the house. When she was young, she watched the light slowly go out in each room, until just the glimmer of her mother's candle was left. It bobbed across the lawn until she opened the door and it illuminated the small space. Since then, she's lost her mother and cleaned every corner of that house. Every time the master bought up a piece of the town, there were more things for her to dust or wash.

When the family left, they just brought in someone new. He'll start as the schoolteacher, but then some property will go up for sale. Then someone's house. Then a business. She's going to spend her entire life watching this greed.

She's still curled up against the window when the door to the house opens. The person doesn't walk with a military gait, so it's Mr. Brewster. He hasn't lit a candle or lantern, just stands on the porch. He's not out there for long before the door opens again and he looks back at it. After some hesitation he returns inside.

That's on her mind in the morning, when she's getting the dining room ready for the Colonel to eat breakfast. Mr. Brewster was awake before her, crossing the fields to enter the woods as the sun rose. She'd seen him as she was lacing her boots in her doorway. She doesn't know what he expects to find out there except coyotes and poison oak. The savages all left to go further west and the animals were not far behind.

The colonel isn't worried. Or he doesn't know. He's eaten and out the door early, to go down to the schoolhouse. Then it's just her. She's got beds to make and floors to scrub. Plus the colonel's uniform will need to be washed. It's too cold to hang clothes this time of day, so she'll leave that for the afternoon.

That's her day. Alone to clean and cook for one who's crazy enough to wrangle a dozen children and another who by dinner hasn't reappeared from the woods. She hopes he doesn't come back with an injury from a fall down a ravine. Rachel's not squeamish of snakes or cleanup up after the sick. But she does not like blood, especially if it's coming out of someone else. She hopes that when he gets back he doesn't have his arm gnawed off.

Now that it's dark, the colonel is worried. He keeps glancing out the back windows, like he's going to be able to see through the trees. The nights are getting darker, so if this is going to happen again this week, she might as well ask the doctor to stay a few days as a precaution. If not for Mr. Brewster than for the Colonel, who looks like he might go searching himself.

Mr. Brewster does come back, late in the night. He opens the door without a warning and the colonel nearly throws the tea she's pouring. "Caleb, are you all right?"

"'Course I am." He walks past the entryway to hang his coat.

"You were in the woods." He says it like it means something else. Mr. Brewster looks over at her and the colonel starts, having forgotten she was there. Most people just carry on with their conversations. Whatever Mr. Brewster thinks this talk is about, he doesn't want her to hear it. If is has something to do with those woods, she doesn't want to deal with it. That nonsense can stay between the two of them.

So she leaves the room and washes the teapot while she waits for them to have their secret talk. She's mildly interested. There's nothing to be secret about now that the war is over. Mr. Brewster's uneasiness and whatever this is about may be the highlight of the winter. With the roads slowing down the town will become stagnant and the people will have to keep themselves occupied.

When she returns, both of them are gone. Mr. Brewster's boots are by the fire. She's have to scrub the hearth again tomorrow.

__________________________________________

Caleb honestly didn't expect to be in the woods that long. He needed to be calm for a moment and realize that at some point, he's got to give Ben a chance. If he doesn't then this will definitely fail. Part of that means not escaping into the woods. He won't go to the woods again, and he's explained this to Ben.

He'd set his coat and hat out to dry by the coals in his room and pulled his muddy clothes off. In a clean shirt, he untucks the blankets on the bed and leaves the room. Ben is barely awake when Caleb lies down beside him, though he grumbles and elbows a bit hard when Caleb's cold toes brush his calves.

Caleb was awake for most of the night. Ben nodds off soon after he arrives, tucked down into the mattress. The house is quiet with just the two of them. Ben's shoulder collides with him when he tried to turn over. Ben had been long-limbed when they were children and Caleb used to tease that one day his fingers would drag along the ground. He'd grown into them, but he still had sharp points that Caleb always managed to get hit with.

Once Ben's done twisting around, Caleb pulls his arm out from under his body and wrestles a pillow away for himself. Ben's thinking kept him up most nights. But when he slept, he could sleep through a canon firing. Caleb likes these nights. He can see Ben actually relax. He pulls Ben's hair out from under his head and combs some stray pieces back. For someone who bothers to brush his hair regularly, Ben has a whole lot of it. Probably to keep up with his height.

Caleb dozes on and off. A couple times he manages to sleep, but there are no dreams. School is in the morning, so Ben wakes with the sun. He stretches, an arm protruding on either side of Caleb. "You stayed all night." His head drops down and his chin digs in between two of Caleb's ribs.

"Well, you do have the best bed in the house. Now I just need to kick you out so I can have it all to myself."

Ben rolls his eyes and pushes up onto his side. The collar of his shirt dips down and his scar is uncovered. It's started to fade now. A few more years and it'll just be a raised patch of skin.

"I have to go pack to my own room."

"Why? Do I smell?"

"Yes. But I also need to get some trousers on." He laughs at Ben's shove. "And your housemaid will be by to make sure you're awake." He lever up, feeling his back snap. Ben is no help at all, pressing against Caleb's skin for warmth. He swings and arm back. "Stop that. You've got to get up."

"Kids are never on time. Why should I be?"

"You _wanted_ to be a teacher. Should have listened to me and become a cobbler." The floor is cold, so he jumps from foot to foot a couple of times. Ben sits up to watch him. The hallway's quiet when he opens the door. He closes it behind him and slips into his own room, where the floor is also freezing. He's wearing his only extra shirt, so he pulls his muddy trousers on and fits his waistcoat.

Rachel, despite not having seen him in the house, already has a place set at the table. Ben comes downstairs, still looking odd out of uniform. He sits down and cocks his head at Caleb, smiling. From the corner of his eye, Caleb notice Rachel come in with some food. She pauses at the other end of room, looking between them. Whatever she's thinking, she ignores it and sets out the bowls.

"No one has bought that blacksmith shop. No one knows how to smith, either. I doubt the town would care if you set up shop before buying them out." Ben barely notices Rachel. When he does, she's already taken the tray back to the kitchen. "It's close to the schoolhouse."

"Ben," he nudges him with a knee, "you know that when we're out there, we're only friends."

"I know. It's just that for a while, it felt like we weren't even that." Ben looks down briefly. "It's good, having you back."

They weren't friends. Ben was absorbed in the war and Caleb worked until the callouses on his hands tore away. "Things will work out. And I'll take a look at the smithy."

"Good. I'll point it out to you."

_____________________________________

It's a small building, but it has a reasonable sized forge. the man who owned it before didn't move. All the tools are hung on the wall and there's a stack of orders on a table. Odds and ends are scattered in several places. Whoever it was didn't plan to leave and never made it back. Caleb feels like he's disturbing a grave.

But the town needs a blacksmith and he needs to work. He starts with getting the forge warm. It's been unused or so long it might take half the day, especially since the coals are damp from the frosts. He's got some kindling going just to warm up the room while he gets the coals hot. A couple hours go by with him working at the forge and cleaning up the junk across the room. There's no window in the back, but when he ducks out to the front to get a breath of cool air.

There's a red glow formed when the magistrate comes into the front room. Caleb is a little amazed that such a small man hasn't frozen solid in the New England winters. "Good morning. Lieutenant Colonel Tallmadge menationed he'd sell you on the idea of working here."

"Oh, yeah." The wipes the soot off his hands."Yeah, he talked to me yesterday."

"You served in the army?"

"I was a lieutenant under Ben's command." Except he didn't do the work, so the rank was a way for them to get the men to take orders. "Didn't do much."

  
"Whatever you did, it worked." There's a thick layer of dust over everything, now that Caleb actually pays attention. The magistrate keeps talking. "And we're happy to have you. The town's shrunk, unfortunately. But with enough time we'll have it back to normal."

Caleb doesn't know how to contribute to the conversation. "I'm sure it will be." 

"Is your wife joining you later in the week?"

"I'm not married." And never will be. "I'm staying with Ben for now. It's not the best time to build a house. Don't have the money to buy one either."

"So you're to be our new blacksmith."

"Yes. Is there anything I need to do before I open shop?"

"You don't own the business or the property, so you need to buy it. It's still property of the town. But if you'll agree, we can set up a payment system. We've been in need of smith-work done for some time."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Based on what you earn in a week or two, some of your income will go to the town. When that amount accumulates to the starting bid price, the shop is yours."

"All right." If he's sticking around for Ben, he needs to commit to making a life here. He is going to commit to this. He trusts Ben and he has no reason not to plan for the future. If he repeats that in his head enough times, he'll believe it. "I'll open tomorrow morning. Thank you."

"I'll let people know." They shake hands and the magistrate heads back into the December cold. The cold air bursts through the open door. Ben's going to be cold today. He'll be cold everyday until the snow melts.

Come spring, Caleb will still be here. He will. This is what he reminds himself. Ben has his trust again and with time ha can teach Ben how to manage a lie. The spring will come and he'll wake up beside Ben with the sun hot through the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb Brewster apparently became a blacksmith after the war. I couldn't find any information on how he went from being a mariner to a blacksmith. I just rolled with it. 
> 
> In case you couldn't tell, their relationship in this story isn't healthy. Or good. I wanted to make sure that was clear to everyone.


	3. Chapter 3

Benjamin resists the desire to go over to the blacksmith's when he sends the children outside for their lunch. Caleb will be busy on his own for the day. He'll do fine without Benjamin stopping in. Benjamin, on the other hand, might be run ragged by these kids. They're rambunctious from being inside and have so many question about him that he can barely complete a lesson. This wont last much longer, once they grow accustomed to him. But it's still rather tiring.

He slept well with Caleb next to him. He's never lad such a large bed to himself. He went from sharing with his brothers to a small bed in a rented room to a cot. Some nights he didn't even have the cot. So having all that space was new and uncomfortable, not to mention chilly. Caleb gives off heat like a stove. Benjamin was warm through the night, and when he awoke Caleb was still there. He felt bad about Caleb having to sneak out. They're two grown men hiding from a housemaid in their own house. But they're also adults who don't want to be hanged. That means that Caleb can't stay all morning.

When the children come inside they have more questions for him. Most have to do with the war or Washington. A couple are about Setauket. "Now that I've answered another dozen of your question, maybe we could get to the lesson."

Benjamin enjoys teaching. there may be other things he'd enjoy more, but a s a child he was told his options were to go to school or go to school. That limited him to doctor, lawyer, or teacher. he couldn't stand to see things in pain and had little interest in the law at the time, so he became a teacher. He went to school, taught for a couple of years, and then watched his childhood schoolhouse go up in flames.

"Colonel Tallmadge," a small hand waves in the air, "who as that man who came into town with you?"

Well, someone was paying attention to them. "That is my good friend, Mr. Brewster. I believe he will be filling in as the new blacksmith."  
"Where does he live?"

"He lives with me. I had a room and he needed a roof."

"He doesn't live in the woods?"

"Uh, no." He's a little curious as to why the child knew Caleb was in the woods. "Why do you ask?"

"Because the woods are where the wild men live, and he looks wild."

"How so?

"Because he's got a beard." Benjamin finds himself laughing before he can stop it. "That he does. What else do these wild men have?" There are a couple shouts of claws or talons. Sharp teeth. Red eyes. It's quite a picture. "Well, I can assure you that the beard is as wild as Mr. Brewster gets. Now, pay attention."

He stops by when he lets the kids go home. Caleb's pressing a fan at the forge. The coals grow white for a moment and the air is hot and stuffy.

"The day is over, you know."

"And you survived a room full of children." Caleb shuts the forge and wipes the sweat away from his eyes. "Wasn't sure if you'd make it out in one piece."

"They had their questions. They're very interested in you facial hair."

"I'm very interested in it too. That's why I'm keeping it."

"You could trim it. What if it catches fire in here?" He follows Caleb to the front room. The temperature drops dramatically. "Then you'll have to shave."

"Then I won't stick my head in a fire." Caleb nudges him out the door.

A few of the children are running around, their parents milling in doorways. A couple wave, but don't come up to say hello. Their parents just watch. They've had their fair share of British soldiers coming in and out of the town. He doubts he would be friendly if he'd been in their position.

"I think we're on exhibit."

"Must be your beard." That gets him an elbow in the side. "It'll die down. We're the strangers."

"The walk isn't too long, but Benjamin's face is turning pink when they arrive at the house. Rachel's got a few fires going, so the house is warm. "We should probably get some decorations before the season's over."

"Decorations?" Caleb shakes the snow off his hat.

"Christmas is in less than two weeks." He watches the surprise on Caleb's face. "You didn't know?"

"Wasn't paying attention."

"Well, you know now." He pauses. "I was asked to attend Christmas dinner with the minister's family. Just me."

"You _are_ a colonel." Caleb walks ahead of him into the house. "I'll be fine here."

"Caleb, I couldn't way no."

"It's fine, Ben. We've been her two days." He reaches out and tugs on Benjamin's collar, bringing him closer. "There will be other Christmases."  
"So you're no bothered by the idea of spending Christmas night in an empty house?"

"Yes. But you can't say no." He pats Benjamin's cheek and ducks into the sitting room. Only an arm chair and a sofa remain of the original furniture. Being just the two of them, there's no need to immediately go out and buy more. Caleb stands by the fire, where Benjamin joins him. "It was a good day."

"It was." He smiles. "I wasn't expecting that."

He's still smiling when Caleb leans over and kisses him. It's brief and both of them look around afterwards to make sure Rachel didn't enter the room. Even so, he presses close and runs a hand down Caleb's writs. "It really was a good day."

The separate and when Rachel announces dinner a few minutes afterward, they continue on with a plain conversation about the town. Caleb is flippant, jovial and normal until they're done and out near the staircase while Rachel carries the dishes back to the kitchen. He grasps Benjamin's elbow and pulls him into the study. Benjamin, who's been watching Caleb's mouth for the last half hour, shuts the door behind them and twists one hand in Caleb's shirt. "I'm having a good day."

Caleb's mouth is hot and his hands feel like they might pull the very skin from Benjamin's bones. The one free hand between them comes up against Caleb's neck. His thumb and first finger press up under Caleb's chin. Benjamin can't remember the last time they were like this, and he's surprised at himself for a moments before the tip of Caleb's tongue runs up the roof of his mouth. The tickling makes him shiver and Caleb chuckles. Then he starts laughing, which makes Caleb laugh. They end up just pressing their faces together more than kissing, teeth knocking a few times.

"You're going to rip my arm off." He laughs a couple more times. "Come here."

Caleb's grip relaxes and he presses Benjamin back. The doorknob collides with his spine, but they work themselves over to a spot between the door frame and a bookcase. It's a nice place, this moment with Caleb. He feels like every time his lungs expand, he's fading further into the warmth that Caleb's emanating.

He breaks away when he hears Rachel's footsteps on the other side of the door. When they fade away, he leans his head back. the hand on Caleb's neck picks up a pulse. He rubs his finger at the spot under Caleb's ear. Caleb rests his forehead against the wall, his mouth pressed against Benjamin's shoulder. He doesn't move to do more.

"There's some parchment on my desk." He can see it over Caleb's head. "I think I have work already."

"Make someone else do it."

"Come on, it needs to be done."

Caleb stays for a time. But after the better part of an hour he leaves the room. Shortly after Benjamin can hear footsteps above him. Caleb walks quietly, so he wants Benjamin to know where he is. Benjamin is almost done with the reading he's been sent. Most of it is unnecessary, but he can't justifying ignoring it.

When he does finish, he closes everything in a drawer and leaves the door open so Rachel can put the fire out. The staircase is treacherous in the dark. He should have taken a candle. He finds the doorway be feeling along the wall. Caleb is sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers poking through a hole in his shirt. Benjamin pulls his boots off as he walks, falling on the bed behind him. "Maybe you should get a few things."

"I can fix it."

"Like you fixed that pocket?" Caleb had once spent an entire hour putting in stitches only for them to come apart just after. Caleb leans back, crushing Benjamin's arm. "You're heavy."

"Think Rachel would fix it?"

"Yes."

Caleb tosses it to the floor and turns to that he's facing Benjamin. He looks tired. Benjamin smoothes some of his hair down for him before sitting up to undress. Behind him, he can hear Caleb's trousers hit the floor too. The sheets are cool when he crawls into the bed, so he squirms close to Caleb. He's already sleepy, and Caleb probably isn't too far behind. A hand rests on Benjamin's back. It traces down his spine a few times before listing. He presses his face down into the pillow and sleeps.

* * *

 Caleb gets an alarming number of orders that come in the first few days. The town has gone so long without a blacksmith that they've been using home repairs for most of the problems. Not to mention the horseshoes that need to be replaced. He words long days and sweats through his shirts. He's tired every time he lies down at night. He stays awake as long as he can, listening to Ben talk. for the most part, he sleeps solidly. A couple times he's woken up, confused. He doesn't know where he is and he's weighted down with another body.

The house smells like pine with the boughs lying above the mantles. Rachel keeps the house meticulously clean despite Caleb bringing in mud, snow, and soot every day. She still prowls around, though, like she's ready to attack. Why, he has no idea. But she doesn't knock on Ben's door to get him up in the morning, so Caleb doesn't have to sneak back to his room. The last few minutes of sleep are glorious.

The townspeople accept them fine now. They thank Ben and if the order are anything to judge by, they like having a smithy going. Despite this, Caleb has a hard time trusting them. These people aren't bound by orders. Their behavior is unpredictable and Caleb can't judge their character. There isn't anything he can do, though. Ben is here.

"It's a week from Christmas." Ben nudge Caleb to get up. "Exactly. The year is almost gone."

"Then it won't mind if I sleep through the rest of it." He tries to roll over and go back to sleep, but Ben pulls the blankets away. "Hey. I saved you from freezing to death. I'd appreciate if you didn't try to kill me that way." He curls inward, skin prickling in the cold air. With Rachel mending and washing one of his shirts, he other has two days worth of sweat and soot on it. Ben had gotten close once and wrinkled his nose, so it stayed hung up by the fire to at least dry.

"Caleb, you don't have to work tomorrow. Just get up for today."

"Tomorrow's Sunday?"

"Sure."

"But today is Tuesday." He looks over at Ben, who's pulling his boots on. "You're far too eager to leave this morning." He sits up, pulling his trousers off the end of the bed. "You were right about needing new things, though. These aren't meant for standing next to a forge all day."

"Then get something that isn't full of holes." Ben jumps away from Caleb's swat. "Let's go. There's food on the table by now."

Caleb pulls his shirt and boots on all the same. He follows Ben down to the dining room, where he proceeds to eat everything Ben can't. Rachel quickly caught on that between the two of them, they can eat however much food she prepares.

There's a small area for them to keep horses, so there's no more need to walk into town. Caleb keeps a bucket of water in the smithy for half the day and switches it out with the other when it freezes. The horses are happy to see him most days and its a relief to be out in the fresh air. Some days he can see the children running around for a few minutes. One day, Ben was out with them. He waved at Caleb and was immediately surrounded by children with questions. That was the warmest day of the week. The rest of the winter will probably keep them inside all day.

Caleb can tell that Ben is trying to make up for Christmas. He keeps suggesting things they could do or places they could go. The problem is, Ben doesn't always understand "no". Caleb would rather stay put until the weather warms, while he can pay off the forge and start building up some sort of savings. Someday, maybe soon, he won't be able to use his hands. He remembers how his father and uncle shook so hard they couldn't feed themselves. He's going to need something to live off of when that happens.

It take more time than he expected to track down another shirt and a pair of trousers. He ends up with only the trousers. He'll have to wait a few more weeks for the shirt. He still has to buy the forge, so he can only spend a portion of his wages. Things were simpler as a mariner. All he had to worry about was keeping dry and staying afloat. Now there's special orders and exact meal times and remembering all the names when Ben has to do introductions. He never understood how adults stayed friends. His parents only spoke to others at length on Sunday mornings. No one had time to sit around an entire afternoon.

Ben's standing with the horses when he finishes. It's a little ridiculous, seeing a Lieutenant Colonel huddling between two horses to stay warm. Ben used to tough it out and act as if he were fine in front of the men. Now, he doesn't care quite as much.

"We'll have to find you a second coat." He tugs the horses apart. "Or a hat. We get any winters colder than this, you won't need a river."

Ben shoots him an annoyed look. He's probably not too happy about waiting in the cold. Caleb never said he couldn't stay in the shop. His shirt is darned when they reach home. Rachel's also preparing a bath. Caleb refuses. Then she and Ben give him identical looks of despair. Ben in particular.

So he takes the damn bath after dinner. Rachel asks (implies) that he leave his dirty clothes for her to wash. He takes the new trousers in with him so he doesn't wander around half naked. Caleb's never found the appeal in sitting in the bath. The water always turns dark fast and then he's just sitting in mud. So as soon as the insides of his elbows and knuckles aren't black he gets out and dresses. He stays in the second bedroom for some time, in case Rachel corners him again. Better to be harassed into another bath than be found in Ben's bedroom. Ben come gets him when Rachel's shutting down the house for the night.

"You're clean."

"Astute observation."

"Astute?" Ben starts pulling his waistcoat off. "Your vocabulary has improved too."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't expect this to happen again soon." His hair took on a life of its own after the bath, and he spent a good twenty minutes trying to wrangle it in. But he's mostly free of the soot and there's a clean shirt.

Ben's fingers find the shirt. Then they find their way under it. His face is tilted up behind Caleb's ear. "You smell like you again." Caleb has one hand on the crease at Ben's thigh when a tongue and teeth start at his neck. Ben himself is naked and the line of his shoulders rises and dips in the glow from the fireplace.

During the good periods of time, Ben had been an eager lover, but he often held himself back, worried over what was or wasn't normal. Caleb's rule of thumb was that if it felt good for both of them, it was normal. As teenagers, Ben was continually surprised with what Caleb could do with his fingers, and later his mouth. But Ben was less willing to experiment, usually worried something would go wrong.

Over the years he'd grown more sure of himself. He pulls Caleb's shirt up over his head, their chests brushing with the movement. One of Ben's hand digs into his side, nails drawing along the rib cage. Caleb pulls Ben's face away from his neck to kiss him. Ben's arms have been working their way under Caleb's back, so he turns them over. Cool air rushes under the blankets, all the way down to their toes. Ben arches up to their shared warmth and Caleb clamps a hand on a hip.

He tries twice to move his mouth to other parts of Ben's body, but he won't have it. Caleb stays close, sharing the air to breathe. Ben's hands hold on to his head and the back of his neck. Even afterwards, he doesn't let go. Caleb rests their forehead together and soothes the muscles in Ben's arms. It's not the first time that Ben has needed to cling to him. He asked once, but Ben didn't answer his question. He'd instead murmured something about girls. Which made no sense considering both of them are men.

Ben lets go eventually. Caleb lies to his side and pulls Ben to him with an arm. He can see a receding flush up Ben's neck. He catches the last of it disappearing into his shoulder, Ben's skin returning to it's regular paleness. "Are you going to be warm enough without your shirt?"

"I'll be fine." Ben slides an arm under his pillow. "Will you stay awake on Christmas? Until I come home?"

"Of course." He doesn't understand where these uncertainties come from. "You'll have a story to tell, I bet."

"I just want this Christmas memory to be of you." Caleb lifts his head, but Ben's already closed his eyes. Right now, it's time from sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Something is going on in this house. Rachel just can't place what it is. Everyone who owned the house has always ad some sort of secret. People with too much time on their hands get into all sorts of pig shit. A couple of generations ago, the lady kept delivering stillborn babies until her husband discovered she and the midwife were killing them all. That woman hated her husband so badly she smothered all his children. he told the town she couldn't carry babies any more, but he wouldn't touch her. He slept in a separate room every night with the door locked.

She almost thinks that the Colonels' plotting something. It's just that there isn't anything to plot out here. The city's a day's ride in good weather. He's the highest ranking person in the town. He'll get into some business and make a good living in no time. The only thing he can do is murder someone. Like a baker, because that's such a powerful position.

Mr. Brewster's more difficult to pin down.He looks just as suspicious of her as she is of him. He's loud and talkative, but he doesn't know how to guard his eyes. He always looks like there's someone waiting to bludgeon him. Sometimes he looks like he expects the Colonel to be the one to do it. The Colonel is oblivious and always appears happy. But being in the military, he can probably hid any actual murderous intent.

If if comes down to some bloodbath, as long as she doesn't have to see it or clean it up, they can kill each other or anyone else as much as they want.

* * *

Benjamin ends the day's lessons early. The children will have some days off for the holidays, but they're so eager to go home that they can't sit still. They dress quickly and are out the door before he's straightened the pile of slates. He grades the work and cleans the board at the front. Then he shuts the grate of the furnace and closes the shutter at the windows. It's a short walk to the smithy. Warm air folds itself around his shoulders and brushes the now off his boots.

Caleb comes out from the workshop, wiping his hands on a rag. He's taken his shirt and waistcoat off under the apron and there's sweat running down his arms to catch in the hollows of his elbows. Benjamin's mind flashes back to when all their mothers had been alive. The four of them tried everything to keep Caleb in a waistcoat during the summers, though Mrs. Brewster found most of it worth laughing over. Caleb, all of twelve, told them that he didn't see the point of putting on a waistcoat if he already had a shirt. It took some arguing to convince him he wasn't properly dressed in the shirt he slept in the night before. Now, Caleb's removed even more of his clothes. Benjamin wonders if Caleb knew he was he one in the shop.

"Come on back." He nods his head for Benjamin to follow. Closer to the forge the heat warrants taking his coat off. Caleb's hanging new horseshoes on a rope. Beside him, there's a cauldron of something in the coals. Benjamin wanders the room, a little at a loss. He spent his time in books growing up. There were some long afternoons in his father's rectory, he and his brothers sitting together under the window. He barely knows how to make himself a meal, much less a tool of iron. He never had the expectation to learn a trade.

Caleb could have built the roof over the heads. It puts Benjamin in both awe and shame. Caleb can make anything, but Benjamin would be lost on his own. If he does anything with his time, it's probably a nuisance to Caleb.

Benjamin has been rather unsure of the past few days. he understand that Caleb can only show so much in public. But he still worries that he's not doing enough to make up for lost time. He's going to prove himself. He just wishes that Caleb would tell him if he were on the right track. By the time he works up the courage to ask, it's always late at night and Caleb's tired.

As far as the physical, Benjamin wasn't sure if they should have picked up where they left off or start slow. They worked out something in between. But when something actually began to happen, Benjamin couldn't tear himself away. He wanted to meld into Caleb's skin or press so tightly that he would have an imprint of Caleb on his body. Caleb didn't say much afterwards, and Benjamin nodded off after a few moments. Maybe that wasn't the best idea.

If things were terrible, Caleb would leave. But that doesn't mean things are good. Or even passable. Caleb has nowhere to go. He might hate Benjamin and is just waiting for winter to pass. Benjamin looks up as Caleb is pulling the cauldron out of the fire. A liquid pours out into a mold. Caleb's image disappears in the steam for a moment. When it clears, he's set the cauldron down and slides the mold away from the edge of the table. He catches Benjamin's eye and smiles, the gesture crinkling the skin around his eyes. "You going to watch me work for the rest of the afternoon?"

Benjamin moves over to make room for him next to the far table. "If there's something else you'd rather I do..."

Caleb drinks from a jug of water. "I can hear your head going around." He places a hand on the side of Benjamin's face. "What's going on in there?"

"Just thoughts." Caleb's hand is hot and rough, dry skin catching. "Nothing much."

"There's something. You worry about everything, Ben." Caleb lets go. "Try to relax for a little while."

Benjamin leans in, settling his arms on Caleb's chest and shoulders to hold some of his weight. He's so tired, more than usual. Caleb walks him back to the edge of the table and Benjamin leans back on it, shifting his weight off Caleb. He lays one hand at the point between Caleb's shoulder and neck. The other goes behind his ribs. The skin on Caleb's back is damp, and he can feel the ridges of his shoulder blades.

Caleb's hands jump on his waist, his thumbs rubbing small circles on Benjamin's midriff. He look at Benjamin for a few moments, then presses on his waist once and reaches up to kiss him. "I'm almost done for the day."

Benjamin stays against the table while Caleb knocks the mold a couple times and takes it apart. The cooling metal retains its shape, and he knocks a few jagged pieces down. Shadows of his hands snake across the wall in the orange glow.

Caleb quickly stacks his tools and sets the forge up to stay hot through the night. Benjamin isn't sure, but he thinks that Caleb's just creating more work for himself by letting the metal cool overnight. He hangs the apron up and a nail and pulls his shirt on. While he tucks the ends into his trousers, Benjamin shakes out the waistcoat. After Caleb puts his arms through, Benjamin pushes his fingers away and begins doing up the buttons. Once the top is finished he tugs on it to straighten the fabric. Caleb watches him align the buttons in a straight line, looking very much like he's going to start teasing.

Benjamin grabs his hat and stuffs it down, making Caleb shout in protest. He shoves Ben in protest and rushes him out of the room. They shake their coats on at the main door. The snow has started to piles against the window panes, long dips of white. Bits of it are knocked away, like someone small has been looking in or perhaps an animal has settled there to rest.

The town is busier than usual, with Christmas only three days away. Benjamin is stopped twice on the way out. Not only does he teach the children, but he keeps them out of their parents' way for most of the day, which they are thankful for. They say hello to Caleb, but for the most part speak only with Benjamin. He looks over, worried that Caleb's annoyed with staying out in the cold for so long. But he's watching two brothers run in an out of the horses' legs.

They make it to the road out of town and things quiet considerably. The horses amble along through the snow and Caleb's hat get a white peak.  "Does anyone here speak to you? Besides making an order?"

"They ask a few questions when they stop in. Once they find out I'm not an actual officer the interest dies down. Isn't much to talk about. Or a place to do it. The tavern here is terrible."

"Are you fine with that?"

"Not with the tavern. The rest of it's just people. Are you worried about me making friends, now, Tallboy?"

"I just want you to have a life here." He rolls the reins between his hands. "Otherwise you only have me to talk to."

Caleb makes a face. "Why doesn't you let me worry about all that? You think about dealing with getting stopped on the street every four feet." He pats Benjamin's arm once.

The rest of the ride, Benjamin works out the schedule for the next few days. He's started going through a recounting of events to get everything documented. The files serve no particular purpose except to keep records. But he's got to fulfill everything he's sent. It's a good thing he's returned to teacher. Not only would the commission barely cover him, h would go made from the monotony.

Caleb nearly knocks him off his horse when reaching for the reigns. "You planning on riding all the way to the ocean?" He steers Benjamin's horse onto the property.

"Sorry. I was thinking." He hops off to walk the horse to the barn. With no foods in season, the field workers he shares with other members of the town have been meandering with the animals. They keep the place clean and exercise the horses, so Benjamin sees no reason to stop them. When spring comes he may sell his share of their labor to someone else.

Before they get too far into the house, Benjamin points Caleb to the study. He shuts the door and tries to organize his words. Caleb waits, fists sitting on his hips.

"Are things how you thought they would go? I mean that in comparison with the first years, is this," he motions between them, "the same? Should it be, I don't know, different?"

Caleb blinks. "Are...Different how?"

"I'm not entirely sure." He pauses, but Caleb doesn't say anything. "If neither of us knows, then that's a good sign. Right?"

"I suppose." He makes a few jerky movements, but finally ends up walking past Benjamin to exit the room.

Benjamin's shoulders sag. Now he's made things worse. It's not as if he was expecting a moment of epiphany, but he was hoping for something constructive. There's no point in chasing Caleb through the house or out to the woods. He'll just have to wait until they retire for the night to put things right.

Benjamin's been trying to teach Caleb how to play chess. There was a set left in the house. Caleb usually chatters through the game, so Benjamin wins all of them. He considers switching back to checkers.

"You should probably come to the church tomorrow, being the last Sunday before Christmas. The town might think you're an atheist at this point."

Caleb grunts. "It's too strict in there. And no one tells the fun story. Like the one with the whale or whatever it was with the horses." He picks up a knight as he says it. 

"Caleb, the horses are in Revelations. It's the end of the world."

"Oh. Then just the whale." He slides a bishop forward.

Benjamin takes the bishop. "A man gets eaten by the whale. Where you ever afraid of that?"  
  
"Yeah." He kicks under the table. "Took six harpoons with me every time I got in a boat."

"You'll come, though? If at least to stop another family from sitting with me out of pity?"

"They talk to you too much?"

"I say the same things every Sunday. I've got a routine now." He takes Caleb's queen. "Checkmate."

"Damn." Caleb frowns, pauses. "We won't sit in the front, though?"

"We can sit all the way in the back if you want."

"Fine." He stands up. "Let's get some sleep, then, if we're going to be up early."

While Caleb's working his boots off Benjamin plucks up the courage to bring up their earlier conversation. "I'm happy. No matter how similar or different things are, please know that all I want is you. Here with me."

"Ben, you're too uptight. I told you, I'm not leaving unless you say so." Caleb's handkerchief leaves a mark in the fine layer of soot around his neck. "I'm sticking around."

"But are you happy with me?"

"I'm a little annoyed at this moment."

"Caleb."

"Ben. Lie down and go to sleep."

He sounds so tired that Benjamin obeys. Once settled, Caleb lines up next to him and closes his eyes. Benjamin stays awake for the better part of an hour. He wakes earlier than he planned, the sheets wrapped around his legs and one arm. The other is trapped under Caleb's body. He had a dream, but he can't quite remember it.

He slides his arm out carefully and begins untangling himself. It's still dark in the window. The sky bleeds into the room, curling it the air as if someone's poured ink into water. Quietly, he pulls trousers on the lights a candle. He won't be getting back to sleep soon, so he takes a book off one of the table and reads. He leans against the headboard while Caleb sleeps.

Sometime later Caleb grips his knee and sits up. Benjamin sets the book down and stretches. "You know," Caleb says, "the point of a day off is to sleep." Half his hair is pressed up from the pillow. Benjamin combs it down with his fingers.

"I haven't been away that long."

"Bullshit. Bet you're hungry, too."

"You were asleep a minute ago and now you're ready to eat. I'm not sure why that surprises me."  
  
"Because you're too optimistic. Get up." Caleb manhandles Benjamin into clothes and is two steps ahead of him down the stairs. Rachel seems to have expected his, and has already set the table. His erratic sleep the night before has left him exhausted, but hopefully a meal will help him stay awake for the morning. He starts in on some bread. Caleb divvies more food onto Benjamin's plate and points, adamant that he eat more. It's going to be cold this winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found so many spelling mistakes in this. I apologize if some of them slipped through. Mostly I blame finals.


	5. Chapter 5

Caleb picks the pew furthest back. Ben's a good sport and doesn't say anything. Caleb has always liked the pews in the back. For one, he was far away from the same types of people who scoffed at him as a child, when he couldn't sit still. And when people entered the church, they usually passed by without any notice.

As the church begins to fill up, they become more noticeable. Ben gets some attention, and the manner in which he replies suggest he's had the same conversations before. There are a couple of girls, close to marrying age, brought up to be introduced to Ben. From Ben's reactions and the impressions the families give, they've all met before. He can't blame them, really. Ben is a handsome, young bachelor with a military record and a steady job. Give him some time and he'll figure out how to become one of the richest men in the county and won't need the job. Still, it's hard. He's possessive, but to everyone else Ben is not tied down to anything or anyone. And they have to keep thinking that.

He keeps looking at Ben during the sermon. Caleb's presence and his talking with Ben previously have kept most from sitting in the pew. There's a family at the other end who came in late, but there's a decent distance between them. Once, Caleb checks to make sure no one is watching and lies a hand on Ben's thing. He turns slightly with a questioning look, but Caleb shakes his head and pulls his hand back. Ben grips in briefly, then returns his attention to the pulpit.

Caleb listens with half an ear. There's no mention of whales or horses or ordinary people. He looks at all the backs of the heads and tries to pick out people he may have met before. They've been more or less indifferent to him. They say they appreciate his work and pay him a decent amount, and then go about their days as if he wasn't there. Not that different from Setauket. Ben was the only one he really kept in touch with. People spend years together growing up, but as adults they avoid each other like the plague. Maybe once or twice a year the town gets together and everyone acts like they're close friends, but when the sun goes down they retreat back to their homes.

Being closest to the doors, they're two of the first out of the church. Caleb's is down the steps twice as fast as Ben, who's shaking his head. When they're both on the lawn he rest of the congregation starts out of the doors. There's general chatter. Two children take off running as soon as they shake their parents off. The horses startle as they run by, laughing. Caleb pats his steed's nose and watches one of them scurry up a tree and the other hang from one of the lower branches.

They're getting ready to ride back when they're approached by a man and his family. Ben introduces everyone, but Caleb doesn't pay much attention. Ben and the man talk about something for a minute, and the man points off to the west east side of the town. The wife interrupts and pulls one of their daughters out from behind her. The girl doesn't look too pleased, but smiles quickly. As they leave, she shakes off her mother and runs ahead, looping arms with her father.

"Do all of them do that?" He asks when they're out of earshot.

"Three of four do. No one's had the time or the money to get married, so parents are trying to find matches for their daughters. They'll find someone else to torture when the remaining soldiers find their way back home."

"It's a little insulting that _you're_ the only one getting attention."

Ben laughs. "You avoid these people as much as you can and then wonder why they don't want to give you their daughters?"

"What're you trying to say?" He teases a little, hoping that he can get Ben to laugh again.

"Nothing."

"Really? Well, if that's true, then the only way to stop the parading of the young ladies is to stay in with me all the time."

"That's what you think?"

"Yes. And if it doesn't work, then I get you to myself that much more." He'll never see enough of Ben. Even when it's just the two of them in the forge, not saying anything, he feels better than when Ben is in the schoolhouse. It's ridiculous, really. Ben is maybe fifty feet away when he's at the schoolhouse. But he would rather Ben stay with him.

"Where would we go?" Ben hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Hide in the woods all day?"

"Not a bad idea. What's wrong with it?"

"Caleb, _it's the middle of winter_. We'd be cold, not to mention there's nothing out there for another three months."

"The hell are you talking about? Everything's still out there. I'll show you."

"Right now?"

"No, you idiot. When we put the horses away and get you a third cloak."

"I'm only wearing one now."

* * *

 

Despite Benjamin's protests, Caleb pulls a greatcoat he found in the house up under the cloak. Thy start off out the back of the house. The fields are under a good amount of snow, and their footprints don't sink down to the soil underneath. They aren't out for very long before Caleb stops and grips Benjamin's hand to pull him down to the ground. He points in to a hollowed log. Benjamin sees a hollowed log.

"It's a dead tree."

"You have to look," Caleb sighs. "There, huddled in the bottom."

Benjamin peers in again. There, smaller than his fist, is a frog. Crystalline spikes line it's back, hiding it in the snow. He looks back at Caleb, who smiles. "Is it dead?"

"Nah. They're tough little buggers. Come spring he'll be jumping all over the place. Come on." He helps Benjamin up.

He follows Caleb for a little ways before he tugs his arm to pull him to a stop. When Caleb turns to face him, he wraps the cloak around both of them. Ducking under the brim of Caleb's hat, he starts kissing him. Caleb's lips are cold, making his tongue burn. His hands are two warm spots moving from Benjamin's face all the way down to his thighs. Benjamin can't get close enough. He understands that if he presses into Caleb any more they'll topple into the snow. But he needs to rip their skin off and crack open their ribs so that whatever that thing inside Benjamin is, it can touch it's mate in Caleb. 

"You know," Caleb says while Benjamin's hands fold into the neck of his coat, "I don't think I've enjoyed the outdoors this much before."

Benjamin burrows into the indentation at the back of Caleb's jaw. His entire body moves when Caleb's hands make one long trail down his back, over his ass, and around to hold his hips. "We should come out here more often." Caleb grunts in response. "Except it would be better with a bed. Or a blanket at least."

"There'll be grass in the spring." He pulls Benjamin's head back from where his neck has arched. "For now, we do have this cloak."

"It's too cold without it."

Caleb sighs impatiently. "They why did you start this?"

"Because I like kissing you." He gently bites Caleb's bottom lip. "And I like your hands on me. Do I need another reason to?"

"Well, it that's all you ever want to do..." Caleb's arms loosen a small amount, but he presses his body harder to compensate.

"Caleb, we haven't-," he's too embarrassed to say the words, just like when he was young, "since the war began."

Caleb shrugs. "No reason to for a while." His fingers skim the waist of Benjamin's trousers.

"What?" He's confused. "No reason to? Caleb, I tried to find a minute alone with you everyday for a year. Halfway through a war, by the way. And you didn't want to be close to me?" He can feel the anger climbing up his spine as he remembers how much he relied on Caleb being there.

"I wanted to be close to you. I just didn't want to get in too deep. Part of that was not returning to everything we had before."

"You didn't want to get too involved? Or you didn't want it to continue? Why lie to me for so long?"

"I _knew_ it wouldn't continue." He steps out from the cloak. "I did what I could to save some of my dignity."

"Oh. Me fucking you would deprive you of your dignity, but you were willing to trail after me for fifteen years hoping I'd what? _Reward you?_ "

If Caleb wasn't happy before, he most certainly isn't now. Benjamin tries to formulate an apology in his head, but he doesn't know how to come back from that. He's angry that Caleb held back, but he couldn't imagine saying that. But he did say it. Caleb backs away, arms swinging at his sides. "Sorry to have insulted your pride. Maybe you can find someone who'll give you every part of himself."

"That's not what I meant." He reaches for Caleb, who swats his hand away and growls. "I'm sorry. I thought you were saying that you didn't care. Even so, I shouldn't have said that. I don't mean it."

"Go back to the house."

"Caleb, come back with me."

"Nah. You go ahead." He drops down the slope of a hill. Before long he's gone from view. Benjamin follows a short way.

"Caleb, please."

He keeps walking, not giving any indication that he's heard. Benjamin won't be able to keep up in the trees once he hits a run. All he can do is hope Caleb returns on his own.

* * *

It's been two days and Mr. Brewster still isn't back from wherever the hell he went, but she's still got to make him a dinner. If that idiot doesn't come to eat it, she'll take it as a Christmas present for herself. She deserves something for listening to the Colonel's pacing. He hasn't stopped moving. Three times a day, the man asks her if Mr. Brewster's back. Gets up, asks if Mr. Brewster's back. Comes back from the schoolhouse, asks if Mr. Brewster is back. Comes back from meetings with the men in town, asks if Mr. Brewster's back. If he's so worried, he can go look himself. He sure isn't doing any good staring out the windows all hours of the day and night. Thank God Christmas dinner has got him out of the house and away from her.

Of course, it's just her luck that barely an hour after the Colonel leaves, Mr. Brewster comes in the door, covered in dirt and tracking snow. He notices her and makes for the door.

"Get in here. I'm cleaning that coat before you start growing potatoes out of it." She pulls it off his shoulders. The shirt underneath isn't much cleaner. "Now, there's a hot dinner in there and if you don't eat it, I will."

Rachel sets the coat in the laundry tub. When she returns to the dining room, Mr. Brewster is standing behind his chair. "Is there anything else you need?"

"What happened to bossing me around?"

"I was out of line." She's done it before, and has the scars to prove it. "Just tired is all."

"Rachel, I don't care. Be as bossy as you need to, just don't disrespect."

Of course. She's only been told since the day she was born to respect white people. She returns to the kitchen to wait for him to finish. There's one large window in the outside wall, and this time of night she gets chills knowing that someone out in the dark can see in. There's only one corner in the entire room that you can't see from the window. When she first started working in the house with her mother, she's hide in that corner when it got dark. When she comes out to check on Mr. Brewster, he's put away most of what was on his plate.

"You going to stick around? Otherwise, I need to know so I can replace that rug when the Colonel wears through it." Too much walking is going to destroy it. "I'm going to tell him you were here when he asks."

"He asks if I've been here?" He makes a face like it's the most confusing thing he's ever heard.

"Every chance he gets." And the chances he doesn't get.

"He didn't do that before." He looks up at her, frowns. "When did you notice it?"

"I haven't noticed anything except what needs to be cleaned."

"Are you lying?"

She figured it out the first night he disappeared. The Colonel didn't sleep. She saw a candle lit in his window when she locked the house and again when she started the day. She's had to deal with all sorts of madness over the years. It doesn't matter what the two of them do, especially since it keeps them away from her.

"It isn't my business."

"God," he puts his head in his hands. "Ben is terrible liar."

"He was doing all right before you left."

Mr. Brewster takes his hands down. "He doesn't know when to be cautious." He slides some of the food towards her. "Take a seat. Consider it part of buying your silence."

"I'm a slave, Mr. Brewster. You're not supposed to pay me." Still, she pulls a chair out and bites into a roll. "You aren't used to negroes being around, are you?"

"No. And you're used to talking like a white person."

"Never saw the point in saying 'ain't'." She tears off a piece of ham. "I won't say anything. I'd rather not take my chances with who would move in next."

"I'm glad this appeals to your self-preservation." He pauses. "What are you looking at me like that?"

"I don't understand how the two of you get along, much less see each other like that."

" _Like that_? You're very talkative now that you've got some food."

"Yes. Why didn't you tell me the ham was cold?"

"Still tastes the same. And I know that if the odds are right, you'll go back on your word."

He's not wrong. "I have to look out for myself."

"Fair enough. You trying to get more information to blackmail me with? That why you're talking?"

"The only other people on this property are the Colonel and the fellas out back. One doesn't notice I'm in the room and the others only want to talk about my tits. My choices are slim. It's either talk to you or go mad."

He laughs. "You assume I don't want to talk about your tits." He laughs again at her expression. "Now that you know, I guess I can stop pulling the sheets out in the guest room."

"You mean that you've been giving me extra work?" He shrugs. "You know how long it take to clean this house every week?" Damn. She can stop washing those sheets now. And the fireplace doesn't need to be lit either. Moreover, hows did she not notice that? She knew everything about what went on in the house just two months ago. She should have been able to tell if a bed had been slept in. "Anything else I don't need to do?"

"I'll tell Ben not to bother you about my whereabouts."

"Thank you, sir."

"How long before he gets back?"

"The holiday parties usually last three or four hours. People get lonesome around this time of year without their children. Come spring they'll be dancing and drinking for six hours at least." She stacks the empty plates.

"What to split a pie?" He points to the crumbs. "I ate everything else."

He's speaking to her differently. It's probably that she now knows the darkest secret of his life. It's strange and she's naturally suspicious about it. She can't not worry when a white person speaks to her without an order. At the same time, it's likely that she'll be having more conversations with him. They'll never be and cannot be friends, but if she wanders around this house in silence for much longer she's going to go mad. So there will have to be some concessions made. She can start with half a pie.

"We got mince meat and some canned rhubarb."

"It's Christmas for another three and a half hours. Mince."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show hasn't shown Ben interacting with people of color, and Caleb was drunk/pissed off when he talked to the Native American man, so I've been making up their views on slavery. I figured Ben would be so focused on other things that he wouldn't think too much about slaves and servants. But Caleb is more of a people person, so I figured he would talk to a slave, but still retain the racism that was "normal" at the time. It's kind of hard to write them that way because had they lived in modern times, they would probably be more accepting. But they lived in a time that allowed the buying and selling of human beings, so they would act accordingly. 
> 
> Caleb will be more personable to the townspeople as time goes on. I wanted him to have an adjustment period. Moving to a new place with a relationship he isn't sure is going to last makes him more unwilling to settle down and make friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Caleb tries to tell Rachel that she doesn't have to wait around all night just to put out the candles. She waves him off and starts scooping the ashes out of the extinguished dining room fireplace. The room will stay warm while she replaces the wood. When she stands, her arms are coated in grey.

"The Colonel will be back soon." He says nothing. "I'm going out to get rid of these."

She hoists the folded sheet over her shoulder. Ben probably will show. It's already the 26th. Caleb still wants to go back into the woods, but now Ben's invaded them. He used to be able to forget about Ben when physically isolated from everyone else. There's no part of the world where Caleb can ignore him, now. Instead, he'll just wait at this ridiculously small table for such a large room.

It turns out, Rachel makes several rounds throughout the house before there's any sign of Ben coming in. She's shuttering the house and closing the flues when she points at the front door. "This better be the last time he asks me where you are." It's a great Aberdeen impression and makes him feel childish.

Ben comes in just after she leaves, looking both tired and tipsy. He doesn't notice Caleb at first, mouth open to speak to Rachel. When he realizes Caleb's at the table, he looks too relieved.

"Caleb, I'm so sorry." He grips one of Caleb's wrists. "I-" He looks at the door to the kitchen, then behind him.

"Don't worry about Rachel. I'll explain that tomorrow. You need to go to bed." He stands from the table and turns Ben around. "The stairs are this way."

"I really need to talk to you." Ben tries to talk as he's going up the stairs and nearly tumbles back down.

"In the morning. You have one drink and lose half your self control. Remember the time you tried to keep up with me?" When they reach the top, he pushes Ben forward. "Go. Get some sleep." He rests his hand on the doorknob to the guest room.

"You're not coming with me?" Ben's face resembles devastation, just less coordinated.

"No." Caleb opens the door, pauses, then closes it. "Never-mind. Rachel didn't start a fire."

"She forgot?"

"Not exactly. You going to move, or are you sleeping in the hall?"

He more or less undresses Ben, who keeps apologizing. Maybe he'll tire himself out that way and go to sleep. But when Cale lies down, Ben leans over and keeps talking.

"Ben, I haven't slept in three days. We'll talk in the morning." That gets some quiet. "Close you eyes."

He wakes to the feeling that someone is watching him. Just a few seconds ago he got Ben to stop running his mouth, and now this. "Jesus, Tallboy. Did you sleep at all?" Looking over his shoulder, he sees Ben sitting in the middle of the bed. He's paler than usual, but seems to be handling his liquor better than expected. Or he's had time to adjust.

"Yes. I woke about fifteen minutes ago."

"So you watched me sleep?" When Caleb sits up, his back pops. He doubts he relaxed at all during the night.

"I was relieved you were still here. What are you doing?"

The floor is cold under Caleb's bare feet. "Getting trousers on." He'd prefer not to be half naked for this conversation. Ben folds back the blankets and does the same. "All right. First: I accept you apology. Shut up about it. I mean it, quit repeating yourself. Now, let's start with what's been rolling around in your head while I was asleep."

"I just want to know the truth."

Of course. "The truth about what?"

"What you think of me. How you feel about the ways I've treated you. If you care about me at all."

"A little - what is it? - self-deprecating, there?"

"Dammit, Caleb."

"Fine. Which first?" Ben shrugs. "Then I'll start at the top. I do think you're a good man. But you can't be perfect. You have a blind spot and I've always been right in the middle of it."

"You think I _ignore_ you?"

"No. I don't know why you do what you do. I do know you didn't ever mean to treat me the way you did. Maybe you were just tired of being polite and military, so I was when you didn't have to. God knows I've never given a shit about that."

"I didn't mean to." Ben takes a deep breath. "It's like I do the opposite of what I want to do."

"Then we agree. The second question. I hate how you've treated me. Now you know."

"Why let me do it?" Ben starts to come around the bed, but Caleb puts a hand up.

"Because, I can't help it."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Told myself that it was better than nothing at all. Third, I do care about you. Maybe too much, considering I love you even in this fucked up mess."

"Do you believe that I love you?"

"Yes." Ben visibly relaxes at his words. "But for a long time you didn't know what that meant. Mostly during the war, when you were being you: Trying to split yourself in several directions and leaving me with what was left."

Ben stands for a moment with a hand on the back of his neck. He's not denying Caleb's words. "Part of me believed that if I did too much, we would get caught and I would lose everything. But I couldn't imagine that you would care about what happened to you, because you had sailing to fall back on. Turns out I was self-deprecating."

"Yeah. But now we've got that sorted out. So stop worrying." He starts threading his arms into his waistcoat.

"Caleb. What were you going to do after the war? If we didn't end up here?"

A numbness works it's way up from Caleb's fingers. Ben doesn't need to know about that. "Like you said, I had sailing to go back to. Besides, I-" Rachel knocks on the door, startling Ben. "In a minute," Caleb shouts.

"She didn't light the fire in your room." Ben starts to put the idea together. "And now she knows you're in here..."

"She figured it out."

Ben gets the "worried" look. "What are we going to do?"

"Nothing, Ben. It's time to go downstairs. Get dressed."

"She knows." Caleb throws Ben's boots at him. "Caleb, she knows."

Caleb pulls him in by the waist of his trousers to kiss him quickly. "Leave it alone. There's other things to worry about."

"Caleb?"

"Yeah?"

Ben smiles. "Thank you. For staying awake until I came home."

Caleb had forgotten. He was thinking more about if he would come back at all to remember that promise. But it worked out in the end. He open the door and pulls Ben through. Christmas is over.

* * *

Benjamin will wait until the afternoon to pursue the subject again. The morning sun in warm on his back while he sits with Caleb on the sofa, waiting for his headache to fade. Rachel dragged a bucket of water and a fistful or rags up the stairs a short time ago. Caleb took that as a sign to lie down with his head on Ben's thigh. His legs hand over the other end of the sofa. Looking down, Benjamin can see new lines on Caleb's face. the years haven't been kind to either of them. Benjamin himself has new aches in his body. His shoulder bothers him some days, and he can't stretch it as high as he used to. He'll be thirty-three in the coming year. Caleb will be even older.

"What are you so worried about?" Caleb presses his fingers along Benjamin's mouth. "You're the only person I've seen who doesn't furrow his brow, but his mouth."

"We're getting old."

"If you're getting old then I _am_ old, so don't say that again."

"Am I also supposed to lie to you when I start seeing grey?" He combs through the hair that's come loose from where it's pulled back. The curls spring back into place. "No wonder you don't comb this mess."

Caleb turns his head in. His nose bumps against Benamin's hip bone. Benjamin traces the line of his ear, following it down to the tendon in his throat. If he finds the right spot, he can feel Caleb's pulse.

"Do you ever think about Setauket? What Abe and Anna are up to?"

Caleb hums, the vibration traveling into Benjamin's joints. "I miss it sometimes. But it isn't going to ever be the same. Except for Woody and Annie. They'll be stubborn until the end of days."

"We should visit one day."

"Maybe." Caleb closes his eyes and appears like he might fall asleep. "Ben, we can keep talking about it. I just wanted to get out of that room."

"We've been sitting here five minutes. How did you figure that out?"

Caleb sits up and swings around to put his feet on the ground. "Let's at least go somewhere with a door."

Ben leads them to the study. It's become a staple of the house, being one of two rooms on the ground floor with a door. The other is the kitchen, and Benjamin stays out of there for fear of upsetting Rachel's work. Caleb looks out the windows, then leans back against the sill. Even across the room he looks exhausted. Benjamin slept soundly through the night, so he doesn't know if Caleb did the same. For all he knows, Caleb could have climbed out the window in the middle of the night.

"What don't you start this time?" Maybe his list of questions won't be as long.

"Fine." Caleb holds his hands out. "What are you most worried about?"

"That you're unhappy and will want to leave come spring."

"Whatever unhappiness I have is my own doing. I stuck by you in that bullshit during the war. What makes you think this would be worse?"

"Because I worry you don't trust me."

"Well, I don't." Benjmain's throat clenches. "You've grown into a hell of a man, and I know that you'd risk everything to save my life. But there's something about us that makes us expect the other to run."

Benjamin nods to himself. "I'm trying to do better."

"I know. So am I. And you are doing better. There's just a fear that this will be like all the other times." Caleb checks out the windows again. "Preparing for the worst, I guess."

"What does your...," Ben tries to think of the correct word, " _instinct_ say?" He motions to his own chest, where Caleb once explained his reasoning.

He gets a smile in return. "It's never been much use when it came to you. Mostly is says to lie in with you all day and do nothing."

"I'm your blind spot?"

"Yes."

Benjamin joins Caleb at the windows, leaning into him at his side. "We're both happy, but worried that the other isn't, so we've been worked up over that all month?"

"We should talk to each other more often."

"If that's the only issue, then we just have to wait this out. Eventually we'll each put up with the other sticking around."

"We will."

"That lie in sounds great. We should start with that. When's the next holiday?" Benjamin can't think ahead with this headache.

"New Year's."

"Then we'll stay in that day.  What else do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing." Caleb looks over at him. "That was all. What else you _you_ want to talk about?"

"Why we don't tell each other these things." They had a friendship as children in which they confided every secret. When Caleb admitted his attraction to Benjamin, their communication opened even more. Benjamin's thought seemed to come through easily. Even if an idea were ridiculous, he could still tell Caleb. The other may have teased him about it, but Benjamin always felt that he could say anything.

When they grew and Benjamin was ready to head off to Yale, it was the content of their conversations that changed. Caleb spoke so earnestly that Benjamin felt blisters forming on his body from the heat. He'd had no idea at the time what that meant to Caleb. He still doesn't know. He finally realized the need to open himself completely during the spring. He'd been so tired of not...not being connected to Caleb. He hadn't been that close to Caleb in six years. Now he's just not sure how to replicate that.

"We don't tell each other things because we've spent too long trying to force ourselves apart." Caleb's breath is warm on his face. "Do you want to talk now?"

"I don't know if I can say it all at one time." He can try though. He walks over to the desk and pulls out the chair. "Stand or sit?"

Caleb hops up on the desk, leaving Benjamin the chair. He ponders where to start.

"I do love you, Caleb. I never feel like I show it enough, but I do. I love you. There's a - a pain in my chest when we're apart, but I don't mind it because when I see you again, it...God, I sound like a child." He take a breath. "I want to be the best person for you. It's why I hate myself for what I did to you. And I will spend every day making it up to you. That starts with me being less of an ass." Great start. Now he just needed to sound sincere.

"I know that you feel I've used you. Physically. I did. I knew it was selfish. I just thought that maybe I could blame those desires. I thought I could be a major and then for a moment, feel utterly good in my own skin. You can make me the happiest person in the world in the middle of a disaster. So I kept coming back for that. Makes me want to rip my innards out and twist them in my hands.

Now, I want to explain this so much more. It's just stuck in my head. I'm still wandering around not being able to tell you things. All I can do is act on this insatiable need to press you into a mattress. Back to what we were doing in the camps."

He lets out a short breath, leaning backwards in the chair. He feels the tears starting under his eyelids. "I keep deciding to be the worst version of myself."

There's two hands pulling at his face. Caleb's standing between his legs, looking down. One hand moves down to the back of his head, rubbing at his skull. "Ben, your apology was accepted the first time. This is starting over. We leave this room, and we forgive the war. We went away, we fought, we won, and now we can come together again."

Benjamin sits up, hands resting on Caleb's legs. A thumb rubs behind his ear. "We should have eloped as children. Avoided everything."

"Hm. You would have hated it."

"I would've had you."

"You have me now." Caleb pulls him up. Every part of them is touching. Ben's feet are still on either side of Caleb, so he has to hold onto his shoulders for balance. One of Caleb's arms is around his back to help hold him up. "We're gonna do this, Ben. You got your country, and I got my house in the woods. We have each other. That's it. Now all we have to do is enjoy the year we have before I get the palsy and accidentally bite your dick off."

" _Caleb._ "

"People in my family had it! Nearly everyone had it. Ran in my Dad's side."

"Fine. If you get the palsy then we'll figure something out and I won't get upset if you happen to use more teeth than is comfortable."

"Fuck that. I want you to put me out of my misery."

Benjamin rolls his eyes. "It won't happen. Now, are you going to let me stand?"

Instead, Caleb slides a hand under his ass and picks him up. Except, Benjamin startles and tries to step down, throwing them off balance. He falls back into the chair while Caleb grips the arm rests to avoid falling on top of him.

"Jesus, Ben." Caleb gets his feet back underneath himself. "Where'd your coordination go?"

"I'm not entirely sure." He stands. "Did you want to try again?'

Caleb turns them so he's at the chair. With slow hands, Caleb lifts Benjamin up onto the desk. His hands stay. "You going to be okay this time?"

"Yes." Benjamin hold Caleb's shoulders anyway.

Caleb pulls him to the edge of the desk, more or less putting him back on the floor. Ben's height is even more obvious now. "what exactly was this supposed to accomplish?"

"Nothing. But now we've got this set for when I want to fuck you on this desk." Caleb presses Benjamin back for good measure. "Might want curtains on those windows, though."

"There's curtains in the bedroom, right now." He can feel the muscles along Caleb's shoulders through the shirt. He holds tighter with his legs to no fall. "If you wanted to start off with that."

"It's tempting." Benjamin crashes to the desktop as Caleb lets go. "But lets start with getting rid of that seriousness."

"That was supposed to be funny?"

"No. I just wanted to see your face turn purple."

As Caleb turns, Benjamin launches onto his back. The forces sends them careening to the floor. Suitably revenged, Benjamin rolls off Caleb and sits up. Caleb's response, of course, is to skate his fingers under Benjamin's ribs. Caleb was sworn to secrecy not to tell anyone Benjamin was ticklish. That didn't stop him from using that information. Benjamin twists into a ball, arms swinging while Caleb's teeth nip at the shell of his ear.

"You still going to be laughing when we step out of here?"

"I'm going to shut your head in the door." Benjamin catches his breath. "There's got to be some story you've been dying to tell me. If I have to fake a laugh, it'll be my best acting yet. But let's wait a minute." Caleb's arms are wrapped around his wait to stop him from rolling away. One of Benjamin's legs is trapped between his own. Benjamin hasn't been held in the daylight. Caleb's around him because that's where he wants to be. And this is where Benjamin wants to be.

"You don't have to keep punishing yourself, Ben." Caleb's hands press him in closer. "You just have to remember that you can hurt me."

"Those aren't related?"

"One is all about you." Benjamin sighs. Even when he tries to make things up to Caleb he's narcissistic.

"I'll be less of an ass if you actually tell me if I'm _being_ an ass. No more accepting it. And it's really hard to think with your tongue doing that." Caleb laughs and pulls away from Benjamin's neck. "Ready?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to figure Ben's age between historical accuracy and Seth Numrich's age.


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel hears a thump reverberate through the house while she's working in the corners of the floor. It startles her for a moment, but there's no screaming or gunfire, so she's not concerned. Whatever the two of them get into, they can get themselves out of it. She's learned not to come running unless called. They've both survived a war, they can survive a fall.

She was surprised when she figured them out and Mr. Brewster confirmed her suspicions. She thought that he would never have breached the topic in the first place. By no means did she want to bring it up herself. The only outcome would have been her neck hanging from a rope. But she was right. She didn't think men who spent so long in the military would do things like that. Probably because she doesn't understand it at all. As long as it keeps as it is, out of her way, they can do what they please. She tells herself that every day, like a mantra, so she doesn't have to keep thinking about it.

Mr. Brewster told the Colonel. She can tell that the Colonel's paying more attention to where she stands. He watches what he says, now that he knows that she can hear things while she's in the room. It takes an entire day, but he finally speaks to her about it. She's smoking some jerky when he comes into the kitchen. He's never been past the dining room, and it's strange to see him there. Even more so when he's obviously fidgeting.

"Yes, sir?" She stands, knees popping with the movement. The kitchen is too small for the house. The previous women made good use of the space, but it was still too close to place a chair or stool in front of the fire. When she gets on in years, she'll have to think of some way to keep up with the house as her body stiffens and swells. For now her main focus is why her master looks like a lost little boy.

"Mr. Brewster spoke to you about something recently." He shuffles his feet. "I'd like to make it absolutely clear that you are never to mention anything from that conversation to anyone." He manages to get a little stern at the end. He's had to have given orders before, so she's a little confused as to how this is any different. A soldier who doesn't follow orders is reprimanded. A slave who doesn't is beaten. She has much more prerogative to listen to what he says.

"Of course, sir."

"Good." He hesitates. "Not to anyone."

"Sir," she knows how to keep her mouth shut, but she keeps talking anyway. Idiot. "Why would I purposely get myself thrown out of a house that may be the least likely place for me to get raped?" Damn it. This is what she gets for not talking to anyone other than herself. She used to take everything she felt and share it with one of the other women. Now it's just out there for anyone to walk into. For example, the man who owns her.

"Before, you thought-." He looks aghast.

No point in it now. "Colonel, I am the only woman in a house that I thought was occupied by two single men. What was I supposed to think?" No one is safe, even when the mistress of the house is present.

"Sound like an interesting conversation." Mr. Brewster strolls into the room. "Ben, I'll take this." He waits until the Colonel leaves before he turns to her. "Thought we agreed that you weren't to be disrespectful." He speaks evenly, but his eyes dart to the side. He's made for brawling, and if the Colonel weren't a few feet away he wouldn't be so calm.

"Yes. I will apologize to Colonel Tallmadge." She waits for him to dismiss her. The hot blood that was creeping up her body is settling back. She can't afford to lose this. If she's traded somewhere else, then she's as good as dead. She doesn't have the protection she used to have.

"Any particular reason you acted that way?" He's one of those men who can act calm and friendly, until she says the wrong thing. Men like that beat people to death and sleep easy the same night.

"No, sir." She's been through scoldings before. She knows the routine. There's no need to talk anymore than is necessary. "Just my imagination getting the best of me."

He doesn't say anything, but leaves the room. Rachel learned a long time ago that life was easier if she kept her mouth shut. She is not to be seen or heard. She's just another piece of property. Still, she can't ignore that frustration of not being allowed fear. She remembers time as a child, not being allowed to laugh or cry when she was hurt. As she grew, it felt like she was being bound tighter and tighter into the frame of little girl. It was later when she understood why her mother emphasized her youth. If she was no longer a child, then she was a woman.

But her feelings don't matter. She is not a person. She's a slave. These men may beat her or kill her as they please. Yet, Christmas was the first time she broke bread with another person since the other maids were sold. The field hands split work between the barn and the inn, so they stayed in town most nights for supper. She didn't trust any of them much more than white folk, either. So she was stupid and though that meal meant things would be different. These people are not her friends. If she's lucky, they'll take pity on her and kill her before they consider selling or trading her.

* * *

Caleb's catching up to the work. He's been at the forge for a couple days, working hard. It took some effort to get the fire back to where it was workable, but for the most part he's been hammering out musket parts and balls of lead. People are antsy to go hunting, and the militia took their guns years ago. These are the people who didn't ride into battle. They stayed in their homes and waited for armies to come and go. He'd rather wait a little while longer before going out in the open. The soil will still be red in some parts, the there were bodies never recovered.

Ben brings the kids in for short days. He'll be headed to the city after the New Year, and he doesn't want them falling behind. The rest of the days he spends watching Caleb work. There's not much to see. Just a bit of measuring and small adjustments. The balls are even less exciting. But Caleb enjoys the company. Ben splits his time between reading and asking questions, mostly to do with how Caleb knows when a metal is ready to forge or how much pressure to use. Caleb hasn't had to think about these things for some time. He can feel it more than anything. Ben furrows his mouth when he hears the answers. He thinks with an investigative mind. He can plan and sort and discover, but he can't figure out what is not concrete.

"When did you have time to learn smithing?"

"I spent some time in a forge one winter." He'd worked every day for three meals and a blanket in the small barn. The horse and the forgiveness of a mild winter kept him from freezing to death in his sleep.

"Where was I?" Ben's got a thumb holding his place in the book.

"Yale." Caleb rolls a cooking pot along the anvil to find bumps, making a grinding sound echo through the room. "It was your first year, so you were busy." Not all of it was studying. He hadn't taken Ben for anything but a reverend's son with a stick up his ass until visiting him in Connecticut that first time. Being out of his father's watch had done him some good.

"But you were gone for months. Did I shut myself in the house?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there." With no real wages, his free time was filled with gambling and spending his earnings on ale and getting his boot repaired. He might have been able to save up enough to go to Ben, but he wouldn't have the funds to make it back. Even then, there would be no job waiting for him when he got back.

"Right." Ben pulls his thumb out and flips the edges of the pages. "Made a right ass of myself, then. Least I could have done was wonder where you were."

"You were happy to see me when I stopped back that spring."

"Was I?"

"Yeah." Almost the entirety of that week had been spent with Ben. It was hard to leave when the next ship came down the coast. He'd written a couple letters on the way up to Nova Scotia, but they went unanswered. They'd been apart so long, and he didn't feel that he'd gotten to say everything he needed to. But it didn't matter. He wouldn't see Ben again for another two years. "Almost as good as catching up in New Haven."

Ben colors immediately. "I was surprised at myself."

"I was surprised your neighbors didn't hear you."

"Hear _m_ _e?_ "

Caleb laughs at Ben's indignation as he levels out the bottom of the pan. He'll put the handle on this one and finish for the day. "What about the other time I came through to see you?"

"Caleb, you came by at least three times that year."

"And every time you acted like I'd been gone for a decade."

"Jesus." Ben leans back against the wall. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"It was great. Meant that I was important to you."

"You always been important to me."

They go quiet. Caleb has him arm out to heat the iron up. Those few years in Connecticut were difficult. He spent most of his time at sea worried that he'd come back to find Ben engaged. Then when he did visit, Ben had new friends and work. Caleb remembers afternoons with a book laid on his back, Ben turning the pages while absently tracing Caleb's ribs. He didn't understand what exactly Ben did as superintendent, but it involved paperwork. Caleb left him to it, never liking to sit with a pen and ink all day.

Then the war started. He'd jumped ship one day to find most of Ben's things packed. He'd barely given Ben enough time to explain his own enlistment before Caleb had asked him where to sign up. At the time, he didn't have too much of an opinion. The years up North were wearing on him, and the war offered the same excitement as taking down a whale. If Ben hadn't been there, Caleb would have joined the army but with no determination. He wouldn't have been there to win. He would have been there to fight.

"I'm sorry I keep bringing up the past."

"It's all right." Caleb doesn't care anymore.

"It's getting late. Did you want to play another round after dinner?" Rachel will have started preparing the food by now.

"Only if it's checkers."

"No." Ben has been adamant that they play more chess. Caleb starts finishing up. "I just feel like we see less of each other. Get up, eat, work, eat, sit for a couple hours, and then sleep."

"It's what people do." Caleb doesn't know how else to say it. They'll never have as much time as they did in the army.

"I didn't think it was what we'd do." Ben sighs. "I should have taken you up on that offer vanish into the wild. Could have been by you all day. Driven you mad, too." He stands next to Caleb while he hangs the hammer and tongs. "Do you ever burn yourself? I have noticed any."

"Not recently. Got myself a few time here, though."

Caleb traces his forearms, where his veins travel all the way from elbow to wrist. There are a few discolorations from flipping things over and getting himself or his skin getting too close to the mouth of the forge. He'd never gotten himself bad enough for the skin to do more than blister. Still, Ben pulls them out straights and looks for scars. One at time, he lifts the arms up and runs a few fingertips up to the elbow.

"Your skin is soft here." He makes one last sweep. "Promise you won't come back one night with burns."

" _Sure_." As if that were possible in his trade. Accidents happen. That's how he burned himself in the first place. "What's bothering you?"

"I have to go to New York after the New Year."

"You told me."

"I wish you could come with me."

"Tallboy, it's going to be, what? Three days? And you'll be making the trips for only a few months."

"It will." Ben rolls Caleb's knuckles through his fingers. "But what am I going to do by myself? What do you do?"

"I wait."

"Sounds terrible."

Caleb shakes his hands loose and wraps his arms around Ben's. "It is. But you've always come back. I just dread the day when something happens and you don't."

"That won't happen. We'll go together, probably in something ridiculous. Like drowning in the middle of winter when we're so old we're shriveled up to skin and bones."

"That's a good plan." Caleb presses a kiss to the side of Ben's neck. "But you don't have to leave for a week yet."

 Ben steps back and Caleb catches a face that is reminiscent of when they were young. But time and war have softened it around the edges. That look used to fill him up. He couldn't imagine feeling more. Yet, almost immediately, he's proven wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More about Rachel will come up later. For now I want her to be mostly a stereotypical personality. 
> 
> I realize that most of Ben and Caleb has been repetitive. They'll start to speak about different things as time goes on.


	8. Chapter 8

It's a cold and dark last day of the year. The sun doesn't appear from behind the clouds all day. Benjamin spends the day writing drafts of a letter. Caleb goes to the smithy and the town hall. He's slowly paying for the property. They sleep soundly during the night. Benjamin doesn't recall waking up and Caleb is a deadweight, in the same place as the night before.

"I think it's close to noon." Caleb grunts in response. "Half the day is already gone."

When Benjamin shifts, he can feel the muscles pull in his abdomen. Every part of him is salty from sweat. Caleb follows him across the bed when he moves, languid and sleepy. Benjamin's a little embarrassed at the purple tint to Caleb's bottom lip. He may have been a little overzealous at some point.

"Does this hurt?" He runs two fingers over the bruise.

"No." Caleb's mouth catches on his fingertips. "What about that knee you hit the bed with?"

Benjamin swings his leg out from under the blanket. There's a spot to the side of his kneecap. Caleb's hand settles on it for a moment, they slides up his thigh. Benjamin presses up into it. They move slowly. Caleb spends fifteen minutes going from finger to shoulder with is mouth and Benjamin counts backbones then ribs. One of Caleb's ribs is crooked by the smallest degree from when he was thrown from a horse.

For awhile, he keeps at least one hand on Caleb. It'll rest on a thigh or he'll clamp them on Caleb's hips, thumbs hooked around the bones. He worries that tomorrow, he won't be able to let go. He can feel Caleb coming back to him. It's in the way he stands close during the days and pulls him closer during the nights. Benjamin's taking every opportunity to help.

Caleb bites his nipple. Hard. Benjamin smacks the back of his head and he comes away grinning. "Wanted to make sure you didn't fall asleep on me." His thumb rubs against the teeth marks.

Benjamin rolls his body up. "I could make you come in my sleep, anyway." He rolls up again, trying to get that right amount of friction.

"And what's it going to be like when you actually try?"

It's a teasing jibe, but Benjamin takes it as a challenge. Hes not very imaginative by comparison, but he's learned how to affect Caleb. After a few minutes of hard work, Caleb's panting and has an arm stretched out to hold the edge of the headboard. The sun's bright for January. Benjamin can feel a stripe of it across his back, ending where Caleb's other hand is leaving five crescents in his skin. Those are going to be there at the end of the day. Caleb's grip only strengthens, and Benjamin feels like his flesh will forever hold the shapes.

When Caleb comes, he launches up off the mattress to kiss Benjamin. He misses his mark somewhat and his teeth drag under Benjamin's eye. The hand on his back hasn't moved, but the other is at the base of his neck, looped under and around this shoulder. Caleb doesn't move it or press in. He just leaves it there, fingertips just below the bump at the top of Benjamin's spine. Benjamin readjusts his weight now that he can't lean on Caleb. The movement creates a shudder.

"Now that we're both awake," he says when he's rolled off Caleb and is bundles in the blankets, "we should figure out how we both forgot to bring something to eat."

"There's a bag under the bed." Caleb scrubs at his stomach with a sheet. "Didn't think about having to piss, though."

"If anything, we'll need more water at the end of the day." Benjamin runs his hand under the bed, but can't feel anything. It must be on Caleb's side. When he sits back up, he sees him hoisting up a sack. "All our picnics should be like this."

"People might be alarmed if they see me giving head in a park. Besides, when have you every gone on a picnic?" 

He hasn't ever gone without being forced by his mother as a child. He's not that interested in it now, either. He spent enough time eaing, sleeping, and living out in the wilderness. But, still. "You really couldn't find a place for us to go, hidden away?"

"Oh, I've found several things hidden away." He hands Benjamin some jerky, eyebrows waggling. "Even something you didn't know about." Trust Caleb to keep the conversation ribald.

Benjamin's face heats at the memory. "How did you even know that was there?"

"Found my own one night."

"You-." Benjamin remembers how he nearly upset the entire table when Caleb's fingers curled up. "You did that yourself?"

"Sure. Don't you?"

"No. I've used my hand, but it's only for, you know..." _Boxing the Jesuit_ , Caleb called it. It was a poor substitute for another warm body, but it got the job done. "Does it feel the same?"

"No." Caleb bites off some bread, scattering crumbs. "Still feels good, though. Little hard to reach sometimes, so I use other things."

"Oh." He wonders if Caleb has something stashed in the room. Maybe he should check under the bed again. "When was the last time?"

"Don't remember. 'Course, you'll be gone for a few days soon."

"So, while I'm in New York, you'll do that?"

"I might. Depends on how I feel. You could too, you know."

"Not while I'm there."

"Why not?"

"Because I wouldn't feel comfortable with it. It'd be a rented room. And rented bed." He hides his face against Caleb's side. "And now I don't even want to be near an inn, because not everyone follows that rule."

"You took that thought too far."

Benjamin groans into the mattress, wishing he could immediately go back to sleep.

"It's part of you." Caleb scratches at his scalp, not bothered. "As soon as you get to the city you'll be so caught up in worrying about other things you'll forget we even talked about this."

"Forget that you know more about my body than I do?"

"That's a bit much. Besides, you've got time, and a mostly empty house to catch up."

"Does it ever bother you, having all this room?" He props himself on his side. "It's as if no one lives here."

"Now and then it does." Caleb looks over at him. "We could always let Rachel stay in one of the other rooms."

"The housemaid Rachel?"

"No, the other Rachel we know."

He pinches Caleb's side. "I get it. But my father's slave always stayed in their own quarters."

"So?"

Of all the things Benjamin has defended, he realizes how absurd it is to put his foot down for this. He doesn't understand why there's still that childish part of him that wants to be like his father. Perhaps it's because Samuel was so much like him. Had he lived, he would have become a reverend. Benjamin has tried for some time to make up for the lost space where Samuel was, the missing good that would have been let out into the world.

But Benjamin is not Samuel, and he is not his father. He will never be a reverend. He's guilty of the sins of murder, lying, blasphemy, and loving another man. Giving a woman a room in a hose she runs is nothing compared to that.

"She can pick out the room. My father would have other things to worry about if he knew how much I strayed from tradition."

"Yeah. I was lucky in that."

"You father knew?"

"My mother." Caleb's eyes get large and sad. "She probably know before I did. Didn't care too much for you, though." He smirks slightly, eyes still somber.

"You know how my father feels about you, so they're even." He remembers the exasperation on his father's face when he'd come back after a day outside with Caleb. "I'm tired of thinking about my father. He's a good man and never did me any wrong, but it's like I can sense preemptive disappointment and disgust."

"Did you ever tell your mother?"

"No. She would have made a stricter preacher than my father when it came to us." Remembering his mother is always bittersweet. "I wish I could have. But it doesn't matter now.I don't want to talk about my parents today. Pick something else."

"You leave for New York in three days."

"I do."

"You'll be alone in that city."

"I will."

Caleb frowns. "You're just going to work and 'conduct business', aren't you?"

"What else would I do?" Benjamin stretches an arm from where its been curled under his body. It itches to move, but can't drag himself away.

"It's New York. Who knows what they have now that the Tories have cleared out."

Benjamin rolls his feet and both ankles crack. If he lies still, he can start counting the hairs on Caleb's arms from where they brush against him. Caleb has closed his eyes and is humming a tune Benjamin doesn't recognize. The rest of the house is completely silent. Not ever the wind is speaking up. Relaxing into the bed, Benjamin picks out the fine lines creeping across Caleb's skin. There's a single grey hair he's been watching for a few weeks. He's surprised that more of them didn't leave the war with head full of silver. There were months he was surprised he would still stand up, he was so exhausted.

Caleb has maybe thirty years left if he gets the palsy. Another decade or two if he doesn't. Benjamin's younger than him anyway, and stands a good chance of living longer. It's a strange notion, knowing he'll die one day but not on the field of battle and hopefully not any time soon. These kinds of thoughts are probably what make people so eager to marry and have children. Benjamin has though about that few times. He's never considered that he wouldn't father any children. It'd be wonderful to, but he'd have to either marry or search out an affair purposely to produce a bastard child.

"Caleb," he sees one eye peek open, "do you every think about children?"

"Which part? The crying or the shitting?"

"The fathering part. You grew up with brothers, and they've had children. Do you fell like that's something you're supposed to do?"

"Yes.. But we don't have the equipment to do that, so it won't happen."

That's the whole of it. Still, it's unfair that he can't have both Caleb and children. If it came down to choosing, he'd pick Caleb. But he can't just write if off the same way Caleb does.

"Ben, we've got another six hours before you start talking of going to sleep for the night, and _I_ don't want to talk about or parents or children. Get over here." Caleb's hands move his body efficiently, until they're back to the center of the bed.

"Do you ever find it odd the both of us were worried about the other leaving?"

"In a way."

"We haven't been very good to each other, have we?"

Caleb doesn't say anything. Most of the bad is on Benjamin, but he can still feel the sick in his stomach when Caleb would disappear.

"I'm trying to think about the future. It looks like it may just be the three of us. Then if Rachel gets married she'll go to her husband's owners."

"Then that'll happen. _Anything_ could happen, Tallboy. We could even end up in another war."

"I wish you didn't like fighting so much. There's a morbidity to it now that you've killed men."

"It's exciting. Do you really find this town to be the most fun part of your life?"

"I like it. I get to spend some of my day teaching, and the other with you."

"Don't you miss that feeling, though? Right before a battle, when you feel three times stronger and faster?"

"Mostly, I just felt anxious. After my platoon was killed, I always feared that it would happen again." He pauses. "I never knew you liked being on the battle field too."

"I liked the fighting. Not the camp food so much."

There's still little facts about Caleb that he hasn't learned. They aren't the most important facts, and don't come up in conversation. He won't hear any of it if he doesn't ask or Caleb continues on with not being able to read his mind.

"Caleb, I have an idea." It's only half formed. "How about every day, no, week, we ask each other a question that must be answered."

"Why?"

"We spent so long not talking. We used to know nearly everything about each other, and this might help up get back to that."

For a staccato moment, Caleb's eye change. Benjamin has noticed this before. There's something that Caleb is keeping from him. The first time he saw, he wanted to demand Caleb tell him. But now he can understand it. He can't expect Caleb to confess everything at once. He himself had indiscretions he kept secret for months. Caleb forgave him, and he can do that some for whatever this is.

Benjamin reads aloud for a couple of hours while the afternoon wanes. Caleb dozes, but isn't bothered when he wakes and the story has changed. Benjamin gets distracted. He leaves for the city in three days. He's a little sentimental that his time in the army is almost up. Most everyone else has already been dismissed. Someone must have realized his aptitude for paperwork and signed up up for this. He never spent much time in the city before the war, and there's nothing to say he'll enjoy it any more or less now. If anything, he'll see maybe an eighth of it between work and sleep. Parts of it may still be in ruins from the fire. Caleb described it to him as overcrowded and littered with loyalists when he went in that one winter.

The night drops down and they both acknowledge that they have an early day. They move languidly, limbs heavy and skin warm between them. Benjamin can't find a suitable way to sleep fr a few minutes. He finally decides on drawing his knees up facing Caleb's back. He toes brush the backs of Caleb's legs. He's tempted to start with the question now, to get an extra in. But Caleb's back is loose with sleep, softening into a long, calm wave .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got quite a bit of the story mapped out, it's just finding the time to write it out that's the biggest obstacle right now.


	9. Chapter 9

Benjamin doesn't remember Caleb's request until Rachel is clearing away his breakfast remains. He's never lived under the same roof as a slave. Friends at Yale mentioned their homes having servants' quarters, but Benjamin's father kept small rooms to the side yard for his slaves. And this house doesn't have the quarters either, so Rachel would have to inhabit one of the guest rooms. Maybe in New York it's more common, but people out here have the space not to do so.

While Caleb finishes eating early and excuses himself outside to relieve himself, Benjamin tries to bring up some conversation. "Rachel, you're the only one living out in the, uh, huts." He doesn't know if they count as houses. Shacks? Rooms?

"Yes, sir." She stands straight, waiting.

"Mr. Brewster mentioned maybe moving you into one of the house rooms."

She doesn't make any expression. "Yes, sir."

"The space is available. Is the idea agreeable to you?" He's never been inside the other rooms, just looked around when he arrived. For all he knows, they could be infested with possums. 

"It is, sir."

He thinks. "Are you saying that just so you don't imply it's degrading to live under the same roof?"

"No, sir." Not like she would saying anything to the contrary. It's hard to believe that he used to head a collection of dragoons. No wonder he couldn't keep Abe out of trouble, he can't predict his own slave's answers. "Move you things into the far North room when you like." Rachel stands still, but in the quiet he can hear her exhale sharply. "Yes?"

"Nothing, sir."

"I'd like to hear it anyway."

She licks her lips before speaking, like she's giving herself a stalled moment. "It's my birthday, sir."

"Ah." Quite the coincidence. "Happy Birthday, then."

"Thank you, sir."

He dismisses her to finish clearing the table and fetches the a book from the study. He's been lending some volumes to the older students. Most of them are too poor to attend university, but excel at their studies. Benjamin is grateful for the education his family supplied. He remembers wishing he could go off to sea like Caleb, with nothing holding him back. He soon learned what whaling was truly like. The first time Benjamin saw a comrade die, he didn't think he'd be able to pic up a weapon again. Caleb had just slung the boy's body over one shoulder and levered Benjamin up with the other. Theses soldiers went quickly, with honor, and would be returned to their families. Anyone drowned at sea was lost. Caleb rarely spoke of the friends he lost in the Arctic waters. Benjamin wouldn't wish that death on anyone.

He meets Caleb on the front porch. The sun hasn't come up over the trees yet and he can see only in the light thrown through the windows. Caleb starts early in the day and Benjamin sits with him until it's time for lessons. Some of the children wait outside the forge and walk the remaining distance with him, asking questions they're impatient to know the answers to. 

"Do you remember what you said to me yesterday, about Rachel staying in the house?"

"Yeah." Caleb rolls the sleeves of his shirt up.

"Well, I did."

"Really? That's great, Ben. Didn't know if you'd be comfortable with it."

He's still not sure himself. It is less privacy for himself and Caleb.

"Did you know that it's her birthday?" Caleb shakes his head. "It's strange how things work out that way. Especially since it doesn't appear she'll be celebrating with anyone. I never see any of the field hands near the house." He never has work for them, either.

"She doesn't like them. Or they don't like her."

Benjamin's mind perks up. "There's a story there." As taxing as it was, Benjamin misses the challenges that came with the Ring. "But we should leave her be. It's colored business."

"You're going to try to figure it out, though." Caleb pokes him in the side.

"It may be more madness than what we have now. Seems like every time we find a simple thing, we step into something completely..."

"Fucked up?"

"Well, that's one way to describe it."

"Keeps life from going stale. Besides, you like trying to make more good in the world. Gives you work."

He hates when Caleb's right and Benjamin doesn't want him to be. He's gotten himself into trouble by trying to do the best for everyone. He's tried in the past to keep to himself. But that's never lasted more than a couple of days.

"I had hoped to be ordinary here. I'd like to make it through the next decade if I can manage."

"Then grow some cabbage."

Benjamin spends the day convinced that he will not investigate anything. It doesn't concern him and he needs to stay separate from the help. He makes it as far as getting his coat off before he fails. "Rachel, why were you the only one to stay with the house?"

Caleb rolls his eyes and tugs on Benjamin's braid. He'd do more, but there's a tiredness in his shoulders. He'll need more sleep tonight, though Benjamin will have to drag him up the stairs to get him to bed early. He fights sleep like a child.

"They thought it best." She hangs their coats over an arm. "Dinner is almost done. The table is set for you."

That's it, then. He has his answer. He tells this to Caleb, who shrugs. "We'll find you another mystery tomorrow."

"I don't need a mystery. Caleb, I don't."

Caleb laughs the entire way to his seat.

* * *

Ben leaves two days later. He extracts himself from Caleb's hold in the morning and already looks exhausted. It's not too long of a trip to the city, but it's going to three days of trying to work in a city where Caleb knows most people need a stiff drink.

Even so, they're both loose-limbed and flushed from the warmth of the bed. All Ben will want to do when he gets back is sleep. That's what he did after school exams. He'd eat like a horse and then pass out on Caleb's chest. Caleb, who usually was just back from hauling in whale oil, dozed on and off. When he was awake, he'd look through the books and papers left out on the bed from Ben's studying. He didn't understand most of it.

Ben was always going to be smarter than Caleb. He figured this out when they were children and had accepted it. Ben didn't have the general knowledge for manual labor or hunting, but he would never need it. He'd have someone else to do the heavy lifting and dogs to flush out the game. Caleb could take care of everything else. And he had taught Ben a few things to get him through camp. He couldn't survive on his own in the wild, but he kept all his digits during the colder nights. In turn, Ben read aloud from some of his books. Not all of them were in English, but Caleb liked listening. He bathed in Ben's voice until the words colored him in typeset ink and sips of tea.

Those books and languages won't make it any less late, though. Ben's looking for his left boot and Caleb hasn't even started getting dressed.

"You have to be wearing trousers if you're going to see me off."

"I'm working up to that."

"Up from where?" Ben lies back on the blanket. "You really do need to get dressed. Besides, work will make the time go faster."

"That's a ploy by the old people of the world." Still, he sits up. Ben's leg across his own slides off. "They better not add on more trips."

"They won't. I wasn't even supposed to make these. But nothing is ever done. I can check on your pension while I'm there."

"I could have used the money before."

"But you weren't shot before."

"Neither were you." He'd taken the injury better than Ben. Mostly because he'd been in a boat with four other men, not lying in the mud and then sprinting through the trees with Robert Rogers on his tail. "You taking a cart?"

"No. The horse will be fine on its own."

"Hm. Hand me a shirt?"

Ben doesn't stay long after eating. Caleb pats the side of his face once. He's going to be bored without Ben. They can't do much, but having him there is one of the greatest parts of his life. They immediately part ways. Ben takes the road away from town.

The kids are excited not to have lessons. But there are a few hours in the middle of the day when a small gaggle of them run around the yard. Once the firewood has been brought in and the snow cleared off the roofs, the boys are turned loose on the town. Girls will be kept inside to sew, cook, and clean. They'll be happy when Ben comes back and they can get out from under their mothers' tutelage for half the day.

It's a quiet afternoon. Caleb works on a new plow. Nearly all the equipment at the house was sold, so he's churning out pieces for customers and himself. Anything not needed to muck the stalls was put up at auction. They'll need a hoe, spade, and rake to start with. He can work out a deal with the carpenter for the handles.

Towards the end of the afternoon he sits to work on some chain links. It'll help to have some ready. By the end of the week he'll need to order more iron, though. He has a fair supply of lead and silver left. He thought about working more with the silver, but he's never quite had the patience to make all those flowery handles. As long as his spoon holds soup, there's no reason to decorate it.

He'll be busy next month, though. A watchmaker is going to set up shop. He wrote the town to see what he could get for parts and Caleb's signed on to make some wheels and cranks and other tidbits. He'll get sketches and model pieces to duplicate. It's small adjustments and a lot of squinting, but it's promised wages and the town needs the business. Not that long ago they had people coming and going. The sooner that's restored, the better.

The New Year as worn off. Everyone brushes through the snow at the end of the day with a scowl. There's no more holidays to celebrate and the spring planting season is still too far off. All they have left to do is wait for warm weather. Caleb can't wait to eat something that hasn't been canned or dried. Beans off the vine or carrots drug from the earth. And the apples. There must be someone who has an orchard. He just needs one good bite.

Except the trees don't have any leaves, forget blossoms or fruit. The field is good, but the soil is in desperate need of a tilling. Whoever owned the property last didn't grow anything near the end. It'll need hard work to prepare for the seeding, but at least the soil will be full of nutrients. They won't be growing an entire crop, but a few vegetables and they can eat straight from the garden.

The sun free falls as he's locking up. By the time the horse is left in the barn he's walking to the house in the dark. The top layer of snow has frozen and each step is twice as difficult. Behind him, his footprints are jagged pits. His toes start getting cold in his boots. Ben is in the city now, packed in with others so close the streets might not have snow.

Caleb is at a loss for what to do. He spends a good hour just sitting at the window waiting for any creatures to wander by. All he sees are a couple of birds frightened out of their roosts and drifts of snow off the roof. He'll have to get up there soon to check the weight. When it becomes obvious he's staring at snow, he leans back and turns toward the room.It's unusual for him to have this much time to himself. On the ship, they'd sleep ten to a room, if there were rooms. From that, straight on to the war. He's been around people nearly every day of his life. He doesn't have any friends besides Ben in the area, though. He's not sure he could make any. The only people to survive out here were those wealthy enough to afford food from a small harvest. Most everyone else had to up and move closer to a food supply or to where they could find work. More are coming back, it's true, but they already know the town and its people. They won't need to prove anything. Neither does Caleb. He is who he is, and there's no point in changing that. But he's noticed over time that he's too brusque for some people. He says what he thinks, even it's insulting. He never saw the point in lying about it. He know he's unshaven and usually filthy. Anything else they can say doesn't matter. They aren't trying to help him anyways.

But, not everyone is like him. Some would rather he lie or not say anything. They can't handle his observations. Ben says that it's just his phrasing. It's not so much what he's saying as how he says it. Caleb calls that bullshit. He's not speaking to a child. If he was, they probably wouldn't need him to coddle them. A child would argue right back or get pissy and move on. Adults have all these made up rules that Caleb doesn't know.

There's nothing he can do without Ben to adjust his words. He'll try to talk to other more when Ben gets back. For now, he's doing fine with the brief conversations at the forge. When the weather begins to warm he can start working outside. That should help. Then people won't be behind two different walls. He'll be forced to interact with them, even though he'll hate it.

It's a good plan. He doesn't have to do anything yet and when he does, Ben can sway some of the people.

For now, he's left to his own devices. One of which is treading back and forth through the house. Rachel too wanders the house, finding things that need to be cleaned. Tonight, it's all the coverings on tables, chair, and the mantles. He doesn't know how she plans to wash them if it's colder than freezing outside, but she knows more about it than she does. There's never anything he notices she missed or did wrong. His mother tried to keep a clean house, but it was hard with so many sons and brothers and the occasional animal running through the house. The few times he saw the inside of his parents' room, it was the only place left untouched by the dirt. She made the boys sweep and wash their floor once a month and fought them to change the bed sheets. Other than that she had to chase them out of the kitchen, leading to endless muddy tracks back and forth through the house. As much as she cleaned, those were never gone for long.

He misses the feeling of his mother's house. It wasn't as big or as sparse as this. They all fit into three rooms. The walls were overcrowded with items the kids collected and tokens the family held onto. But there was a warmth to it. Maybe he just needs to give the house more time. When he and Ben get some belongings it won't be as obvious. Except they've been around for a couple months and Caleb might as well have just arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter. So far I've got another twenty hand-written pages to type up. I write this out with a pen, by the way. Mostly while I'm at work. I get quite a bit of this done there, actually.
> 
> I didn't know if Ben would have used the n word, and I wasn't ok with including it. There is a divide between Rachel and the two of them, and race plays a part in it, so I wanted to stick that in there briefly. It will play a part later. Unfortunately, the n word was a socially accepted word at the time, so I compromised with the word 'colored'. Makes him sound a little bit like a 1950s housewife, but oh well.


	10. Chapter 10

Getting to the city takes much less time without the checkpoints. Benjamin's on the ferry ahead of schedule, so he stops for some food when they land. The streets are busy again. The sound of construction carries over. He checks in at the post still early by a quarter of an hour. It's a small group of them there. Most of the government work has been separated from the militia, now that they are recognized as a country. He expects only a few high-ranking officers will remain in commission. The rest of them will join their units in everyday life. Benjamin is a little morose at the thought of leaving the army. He did a good part of growing up in it, and it was something he excelled at. Still, he has Caleb back in Connecticut. That alone is more alluring.

It soon becomes apparent that there really is no work to be done. he spends three hours looking for something to occupy his time while the others talk about what needs to be done.  He hopes this changes soon. No one will want a government that can't decide on anything.

Someone brings up the idea of leaving early. In a rare twist, he agrees and now he has an extra hour to himself. He walks around the city a bit. The sawdust floats through the sunlight, stinging his eyes. No one else seems to be bothered. In the sunlight, it appears like it's snowing. Come spring, they may never leave winter.

Benjamin reaches the water and starts shivering. Without the buildings to block the wind, the cold off the water runs up to him. He can't imagine spending months it it, or even colder times. Caleb's bulk and layered wardrobe must have helped, though. The taste of the salt is familiar, though. He forgets what it's like to live right on the water. But then he smells the dead fish that have washed up on short. And the seaweed. Then there's the birds and their shit.

He doesn't stay long.

His room is warm when he stops in to leave his coat. He planned on eating again when he got in, but he sits for a moment. It's difficult to be away. He's tired and impatient for the trip to be over. It's a little sickening how much like his parents he feels. His mother would visit family occasionally, or his father would be off for something with the church. Each time one left, the other would be miserable.  Once they were reunited, the home returned to its equilibrium.

It was difficult when his mother died. Benjamin always admired his father's surety in his faith. But for a few months, Benjamin could tell that his father hated God for taking her away. Like all things, it ended with time. Benjamin wasn't around when Samuel passed, camped out in the middle of New Jersey. He hadn't brought it up with his father. Losing Samuel and then being evicted from his church to be replaced with a horse weren't exactly good motivators. Followed by someone trying to kill another son and Lucas Brewster's blood sprayed across the doorstep, he might never go back to the church.

Benjamin's been meaning to visit his father. He returned to Setauket, but not as the reverend. Instead, he'd settled in to a new, smaller house, content to spend his days idling in a good chair under an elm. He just never got around to actually going there. It's not far out of the way. But regardless, he's hesitant to make the journey. Mostly because he doesn't have an excuse for why Caleb is living with him. He could just lie or not mention it, but  he wasn't successful in the past when denying Caleb visited him at Yale. There was some gibberish and long pauses involved.

That's a problem for another day. Right now, he needs some food and a good night's rest. The dining room is fairly empty. Even though he left early, he spent enough time walking around to miss the dinner crowd. The cook gives him extra helping to empty the cookware and, as she put it, "put some meat on those sapling arms." He assumes, and hopes, she meant his arms. He has a hard enough time knowing Caleb stares at his ass and legs.

* * *

Caleb is alone for about twelve minutes before he's bored. Faced with the two options, entertain himself or find Rachel, he chooses the latter. He checks the kitchen first, but she's off somewhere else in the house. Then he starts circling the rooms. There are, after all, only so many places to be. When he does find her, he nearly gags. "What are you doing?"

"The vinegar is better than soap or water. Gets rid of the lines." She's not bothered by the smell. "It's better to clean windows when the sun's gone, or they dry too fast."

She dunks the rag into a bucket and then wrings it out. The water is grey and clouded. She scrubs once more and the window, then tosses the rag. It slaps the water and if its possible, makes the smell stronger. "Did you need something?"

"I'm bored."

She stares blankly at him. "There isn't much I can do about that."

"Do you know how to play cards?"

"No." She returns to the windows.

Caleb takes a seat. The only place he's interested in going to is the tavern. He normally wouldn't care about taking strangers' money, but he lives here now and it would be better the know the people before he pockets all their money.

Rachel works with efficiency and by the time the sun's set she's finished all the windows on the top floor. Caleb is distracted for a short time by the faded squares and rectangles on the walls. He follows her to the kitchen to ask. "How long were those pictures hanging on the walls?" He squints in the burst of wind as she empties the bucket out the door.

"Long time. The house has changed hands four times. Man who built it died from typhoid with his wife and two children. The third was a girl, she didn't need it when she married. Then a couple who never had any children. The last owners were a family. They kept it for a few generations. Then you and the Colonel."

"Did you like the people before us?"

She shrugs.

"I'd prefer an answer."

"There were decent people who fed and clothed me, and never let me forget." She slides a mug off a shelf and put the kettle over the fire.

"But they didn't send you with the others."

"No. They did not."

"Did you want to go?"

She straightens. " _Sir,_ I am a slave."

Here's what she's really saying: It didn't matter what she wanted. Either stop talking like we're equals or stop treating me like we aren't. Caleb imagines she'd insert some stronger language, judging from the way she's grinding her teeth. He _is_ aware of their positions of power. Or rather, her lack of it.

"Well, technically I don't own you or this house. I'm a guest. So are you, for a few hours a night, now that you're staying in the guest room.  Co-inhabitors sound like a truce?"

"Are you going to get angry if I'm rude?"

"Yes, but I can't do anything about it."

"Fine," she says after a moment. "You hoping I'll be someone to talk to when the Colonel's gone?"

"Yes."

Neither of them say anything, creating Caleb's next problem. He has nothing to talk with her about. "Except I tell Ben almost everything, so there's not much left."

"What don't you tell him?"

"Things he doesn't need to know."

"Because secrets are good for your... _relationship_."

"They are if the truth is worse."

"How did you survive a war with that kind of thinking?"

"I killed a lot of people and stole a uniform."

"The Colonel didn't report you for that?"

"It was a redcoat uniform. To get into New York."

"Oh." A pause. "This secret, it's not that you've got someone else?"

"No." That would be even worse. "I just had plans for after the war, in case something happened. Or rather, didn't happen." Hell, he might as well tell someone. "I was going to put a bullet in my brain."

Rachel leans against the small tabletop. "If he asks, you're better off telling him you have a mistress...mistre? Manstress?"

"Then I'd be lying all over again."

"Which do you think he'd hate to hear more?"

"The fake one."

She sighs loudly. "You truly are a man."

Talking with Rachel is awkward and slow to work, but by the end of the night Caleb can speak to her maybe not as a friend, but at least as any other woman. Rachel doesn't bring up what Caleb told her. Mostly the conversation sticks to shallow and, at times, dull topics. But get her on the right word, and she can talk forever. She catches herself when she does so. Once she gets tired of Caleb's incessant chattering she'll learn to keep going.

This doesn't stay past the night. Caleb's seated next to her in front of the kitchen fire with a bowl of oats. he doesn't see the point in eating alone.

"Why did you tell me what you did?"

"You were asking, and I figured someone might as well know." She nods and returns to her food. "Did it bother you?"

"How many people do you think have wished themselves dead in this country?"

"Do you?"

"No. My mother worked hard to bring me into the world and raise me right. I loved her too much to throw it away. I just wish I was someplace else."

"I don't care where I am, so long as Ben is with me."

"Except you're made for traveling, and he's not. You hate it here."

"I do not."

"Mr. Brewster, the town idiot is out more than you. You've got the experience, a vulgar sense of humor, and if you try to open a window one more time, I'll move your bed outside."

"I just need some fresh air."

"Then go for a walk."

"But I don't _want_ to go for a walk."

"And you're just whining for the sake of whining now."

* * *

Benjamin just about launches out of his chair when the papers are to sent over to who knows where. Normally they'd use a courier. But seeing as they're overstaffed with five people as it is, he asks to go. He's told the address and doesn't think anything of it until the doors open and he's ushered into a halfway lined with stacks of other papers.

The maid who let him in disappears when his back is turned. She probably assumed he knew where he was going. He knows that he's giving these to someone in the house. Which is silent and shadowed form the clutter. His best bet is to just start wandering. There's someone in this house who's expecting the papers. The bottom floor is empty. They've most likely followed the heat to the second floor. He finds this to be true when he reaches the top of the stairs. There's the sweet smell of pipe tobacco and voices drift from the rooms. Benjamin pops his head through the first doorway.

General Washington is seated at a table with four other men he vaguely recognizes. None of them notice him lurking and he may be infringing on a meeting above his rank, so he keeps moving. The next man he comes across jumps as they cross paths. "Good Lord, how did you get in here?"

"A maid let me in."

"Ah. Well, at least we can assume you're a patriot." He smiles. "You are, aren't you?"

"Well, yes." Ben looks down at his uniform. It feels a bit odd, wearing it again, but he's sure everything is on right.

"Don't take it so seriously, son. You're over from Wall's office, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"You can hand those off when the meeting's finished."

"Shouldn't you be in there?"

"Me? No." The man shakes his head and half his body follows. "I'm just here to say hello and rile some nerves." He puts a hand out. "William Floyd."

"Benjamin Tallmadge."

"I'm actually in the city for my daughter. Man said he wants to marry her I'm doing some looking into him."

"You must love your daughter very much."

A clomping of boots behind him signals the end of the meeting. He hands the papers off to the first person who holds out an expectant palm for them. Mr. Floyd says farewell and hops down the staircase. Benjamin lingers, unsure if he should take something back. After a moment, he follows Floyd. the door to the room is nearly closed, and Benjamin can't tell if the General is still there.

They don't need him here, in the city. They didn't even need him to show up. His pride is a little insulted that he's not irreplaceable. But he reminds himself that the country doesn't need intelligence gathering in peace time. He'll have to content himself with being a schoolteacher.

Out on the busy street with the rest of the day stretched out, he desperately wishes Caleb were with him. He's not sure what they would do, but he'd still be there. That impatience grows into the night. And when Benjamin wakes an hour earlier than intended he doesn't stay abed. he packs his clothes, eats what the cook puts in front of him, and saddles his horse. The animal flicks its ears back at the changed in schedule and refuses to go above a walk.

There's been snowfall overnight. The further away he gets form the city, the less footprints remain and soon he's the only soul for what looks like eons. Then there's one town, and another, and an hour later he can see the house. But he keeps riding right into town, leaves the horse behind the forge, slides in the door, and is kissing Caleb and holding him and touching him and how is he going to leave again in a month?

He strips down to his shirt so he can sit beside Caleb. He sleeps for some time, leaning back against the wall with the bricks warming his side. When he wakes, Caleb shares his food with him. They switch the water bucket for the horses and some children trying to tempt the animals with straw wave from the fence. Benjamin waves back and takes a step to the side so he isn't pressed so close to Caleb. He doubts they noticed, but one day each of them will start to learn about everything that comes with adulthood. He was barely able to walk, it felt like, when his mother made his father sit him down and explain the responsibility to find a wife and hope that she has sons, so he can raise them to do the same. h never got the sensation around girls that he supposes the other boys did. At the time, he just wanted to invent games with Caleb and Abe. His father might as well have skipped the entire speech for the lot of good it did him. There was a brief moment when his father started to explain the mechanics of sex to him, before Benjamin blurt out that he'd already heard it from from other boys around town. Neither of them mentioned it again. Benjamin didn't let on that "the boys" were Caleb and his instruction had been more learn-by-doing.

"They must have forgotten this means they have lessons tomorrow."

"Just because you hated school doesn't mean everyone else does." The horses nudge each other out of the way to get at the oats Caleb has. "Besides, I kind of missed them. Kids aren't all that bad."

Caleb hums noncommittally. "I used to be angry at my parents for having my brothers and I, knowing that the last three generations always got the palsy or some other God forsaken disease that left them in pain."

Benjamin can't imagine Caleb being angry at anyone in his family. He'd been fiercely protective of this brothers, eventually including Samuel in there too. He never quarreled with his parents, helped his uncle eat on the worse days. He saw Caleb with his niece, once. Caleb's brother and sister-in-law were visiting so his parents could meet their first grandchild. Caleb and that baby had just smiled at each other, his hands cradling her entire body as he swayed from side to side.

"Caleb, may I use my one question?"

"That thing you were babbling about before you left?"

"Yes."

He shrugs. "Fine by me."

"Did you ever, at all, though you'd one day have a family? If the sickness bothers you that much, I understand. But, ever?"

"I'd considered it. You know how much I love my family. But I never really assumed I would. By the time I'd thought that far into my future, my grandmother was coughing up blood and Aunt M was dead in the ground."

"I was remembering seeing you with your brother's first daughter."

Caleb grins. The cold air has dried out his lips and there's a crack starting to bleed with the movement. "Cutest kid I'd ever seen." The red beads and smears across his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't spend as much time proofreading this. Sorry about any errors.


	11. Chapter 11

Ben is all over him the first few days after his return. And it's not like he wants to fuck. He worms his way to wherever Caleb is and sticks with him. There's maybe a minute between the sound of children running out of the schoolhouse and Ben curling up in a chair at the smithy.

It's not that Caleb doesn't like it. Rather, it's unusual for Ben to be so physically attached when others could see. No one can see into the back room unless Caleb invites them in, but they can watch Ben walk over every day. He probably has a story if someone asks him about it, or at least some kind of diversion.

When they are home, Ben's worse. The only time he's not right there is when Caleb's taking a piss. "Tallboy, I don't think we'll both fit in this shirt."

"Sorry." He pulls his chin of Caleb's shoulder. "Trying to makeup for my time in New York, I guess."

"As long as you don't drag me to that thing later."

"It's a funeral."

"For someone you didn't know."

"But I'd feel rude if I don't go."

"My god, Ben."

"I want to be nice." As if the people here might think poorly of him.

"There's nothing else for you today?"

"No. Just the funeral. I let the kids have the day off. No doubt the parents are going to drag them along."

"I'll see you when you get back, then?"

"Yes. Do you mind if I spend the morning with you, though? I'll try not to get in the way when you're taking orders."

"You don't have to ask. And the business is slowing down. The only work I know will show up is a repair job on a plow. You'd think the idiot ran it right into a mountain the way it's coming apart. But he insists its fine. Mostly because he thinks I charge too much."

"Do you?"

"I charge what anyone else would. It's getting more expensive to get iron and steel shipped over, too." He stretches until his back loosens with a pop. Ben shakes his head and rubs high up on Caleb's back. He keeps doing it while Caleb is working, but eventually stops moving his hands. Then it's just him holding them against Caleb's shoulders to feel the bones and muscles pull together.

Caleb waits until it's almost time for Ben to leave before he hedges a question. Or something like a question. "You've asked me about children twice."

"I did." Being Ben, he keeps talking. "I was curious and they are one of the more important parts of a person's life, so I wanted to know if we agree."

"Do we?"

"It's like you said. It's not possible for us."He kisses the back of Caleb's jaw and stands. "But there are several children who will be _too_ excited if I don't show up to give them their exam. I'll see you after the funeral."

Ben isn't angry with Caleb, or blames him. That's obvious considering the lack of a womb between the two of them. But if Ben were content with being barren, he would have answered the question. They'll be happy together, yes. But Ben won't be happy enough. He'll feel like something is missing. This will lead to guild over thinking that his life isn't good enough. He'll think he's selfish and try to be happy with just Caleb. He won't be, and it'll start all over again. Because while they are great together, they aren't meant for the long run

* * *

She's lucky if she gets three hours of sleep at night. When she first moved in, the bed was perfect and she slept like a rock. But now her back hurt wherever she lay and she kept getting up thinking she'd forgotten something. This long process left her with a few snatches of sleep. All day long she feels tired, but come nightfall she's wide awake.  

She's back to talking with herself again. Mr. Brewster splits his time between the Colonel and watching out the window. If it weren't winter, she'd think he was ready to bolt. He still chats with her in passing. The superficial questions and the boredom of having to answer them are the worst part. The days have been going slow with "How's the window thing going?" being the only communication.

So, yes, she's feeling like she'll go a bit mad. It's a slow death, this life. She'll lose her mind first, then her body will waste away. Or at least it'll go in that order. Hopefully.

Instead, she's surprised by the appearance of the Colonel. She's bringing some of the smaller rugs back in from beating them, ears and fingers freezing from being exposed. She was looking forward to standing by the fire for a few moments But when she reenters the house the Colonel has taken the spot. She is not allowed to be by the fire while he does so.

"Good afternoon. I'd like to have a word with you."

"Yes, sir."

"You've seen Mr. Brewster around the house while I'm away, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"At the risk of impropriety, was there anything unusual? Did his behavior change?"

He's trying to ask a specific question without using the words. "Forgive me, sir, but I do not think I can best judge what is unusual for Mr. Brewster."

"Ah, yes." He nods to himself. "What _did_ he do?"

"He worked longer hours and sat in the rooms while I cleaned." That makes it seem more like he was inspecting her work without actually lying.

"He wouldn't shut up, would he?" He's smiling, so she takes it as a good sign to confirm. "Caleb does that. Given half a chance, he could get on good terms with anyone."

She's not sure 'good terms' could describe it. "Was there anything else you needed, sir?"

"No. Good evening."

Rachel watches the fire after he leave and, out of spite, moves away. The seams of her cloak groan with how tight she wraps herself.

* * *

"Heard you were gossiping about me." Mr. Brewster picks up one end of the laundry basket as she prepares to carry it upstairs. "Were you two giggling over how adorable I am?"

"He asked question about you, because the two of you are so obsessed with how each other sees you, you forget about the other person." The basket bobs between them on each footstep.

"What's got you so angry?"

"Nothing, because I'm not."

"You're scowling because you're happy, then?" He lets go of the basket so she can carry it to the rooms. He, of course, follows. "Well, its either something Ben or I have done. You don't see anyone else."

"Now that you mention it, the house has been empty lately."

"Jesus. Aren't women supposed to talk together about what's pissing them off all the time? Why don't you just do that instead?"

"I'm not allowed to leave without orders to do so."

"Oh." The sheet smacks him in the face as she shakes it out. "I'll do it then."

"Do _what_?"

"Be your substitute listening person. People love talking to me." He sees her face. "They _do_!"

"You want to listen to me complain."

"Not that thrilled about the complaining part, but I can live with it."

"You aren't going to like what I have to say."

"So? I doubt you like everything I say. Besides, I can't do anything if I don't."

Hell, if they sell her, they sell her. She's tired.

"This town is full of nosy tricksters but I managed to be sold to a house that might as well be on the edge of the world. There's land out there you don't use, rooms that should be lived in, yet we're running through food like we're feeding a village. If you're not going to shave, you might as well comb your hair. The Colonel leaves books and papers lying around to collect dust. I think there was a bear on the porch roof the other night, and yes, I know bears are gone for the winter. I think I have the beginnings of arthritis in my hands. the seat in the outhouse needs to be sanded. You both snore loud enough to wake the dead, and how do I know the colonel's not going to string me up outside in that tree if he finds out that I know you were going to blow your head apart, and he didn't?"

Brewster blinks slowly. "Well, that's a bit more that I expected. How long have you been keeping that in?"

"I. Heard. A. Bear."

"Right. That may have been a fox or coyote. The roof isn't that far off one of the drifts. I'll work on the outhouse, but not on combing. We've always eaten a lot. And Ben won't care that much."

"Sure. Once he stops being protective of you."

He scoffs. "There's nothing to it. He does most of that for show."

What an idiot. It doesn't matter. He can be oblivious all he wants. She's got a little more riding on the Colonel not being angry and homicidal. Specifically, her neck and it's attachment to her body. Regardless, she feels slightly better. She'd feel _safer_ if there wasn't a creature crawling around on the roof at night, but what can she do.

"Rachel, would you like us to put you in touch with someone else? Someone who used to work here?"

"My aunt is out on the Frank's property. She can't travel, though. She's got bad lungs. Gives her trouble in the cold air."

"All right. I'll ask if you can make the trip over one day."

He stands, leaving a crease in the blankets she just washed.

"Thank you." It's an unusual taste in her mouth. The few times she's thanked a white person, bitterness and hypocrisy soaked into her tongue, making it stick to the roof of her mouth. Brewster nods once, mind already moved on.

* * *

Benjamin knows he's crowding Caleb. He doesn't want to, but can't seem to stop. He blames part of it on some thinking he did while lying awake at night in the city. It reminded him of the time he was at school, and Caleb was sailing or traveling or who knows what. At the time, they hadn't made any sort of agreement or commitment. He assumed in the past that Caleb acted similarly as he did. But he heard enough jokes leading up to and during the war that with the time to ponder them, he wonders what or who Caleb had been doing.He's even a little bit jealous. If his suspicions are true, then physically, he doesn't share anything unique with Caleb.

Him talking to Rachel didn't do anything. Plus, he's fairly sure Caleb talked to her too. And for longer. He's been a little more patient with Benjamin since. When they constantly bump into each other he's slower to push Benjamin out of the way. But its becoming a hassle. He lets Caleb get agitated, waiting on the other end of the sofa with the remains of his tea.

"What's got you so strange, anyway, Benny?"

"That's what I've been thinking about, too." He sets the tea on a side table. The ridge of the cup handle has left a red mark on his finger. "I don't have any right to ask you this, but I have to try. When we were younger, me at school and you off the everywhere, you had some, us...relationships, right?"

Caleb nods. "We both did, Ben."

He didn't expect that. "How did you know?"

"You carried yourself differently. When I touched you, you acted like it was foreign. Because my hands weren't the ones you were used to."

He know years ago, then. "I'd like to talk about it."

"All right." When Ben is silent he continues. "I fucked a lot of people. Bar wenches, bar _keeps_ , sailors, prostitutes, journeymen, stranger across a room." He shrugs. "Figured you knew."

"I did. But it bruised my ego, so I didn't want to believe it." He's a little jealous. He isn't sure of which. That Caleb would get that close, even physically, with so many people, or that none of them seem to hold any emotional importance. "I did just about the opposite."

"I figured."

"It was Nathan." Dead and gone, now. "Just for a couple of months. But I thought at the time that he would come close to overshadowing you. He was working himself out. I knew he was attracted to women too, like you. Turns out that he liked women just a little bit more than he liked me. Said maybe if I were the right kind of person, I could have been the exception."

"He cared about you. Just not in the way you wanted him to." Caleb doesn't seem bothered by the revelation that he was nearly replaced. "But he was a friend and he looked out for you, which I appreciate."

"Caleb, you never met him."

"I did. Was looking for you, he got suspicious. Wanted to know why a man carrying two muskets and stinking of dead bodies was asking around for you. We lost three people to fever on the ship." He waves off Ben's questions. "Once he know my name and saw I was out of gun powder he pointed me to you. You were so deep in a book at a library that I had time to get a bath and a meal before you noticed I'd come and gone once already."

He feels a rush of appreciation for both of them. "I wish you two could have become friends. Nathan, he was like us. He didn't care about station as long as you were kind." He'd loved hearing Caleb's stories passed on through Ben. Had he lived, he wouldn't have stayed. There was land and sea out west, past the French.

"Sounds like he was a bit like both of us."

"He was. It's a shame."

They're silent for a moment and it's right there. When Caleb thinks about Nathan's death, there's a shift. "Caleb. What aren't you telling me?" It can't be something to do with Nathan himself. Caleb wasn't anywhere near New York when he died. "Is it something to do with me? You?" Suddenly, he thinks he's going to weep. "What I just explained, is that how you feel? But you don't want to hurt me?"

"God, no, Ben. Yes, I've fucked women. I've fucked other men too. Neither one is more important or better than the other. In case you were unaware, there's a noticeable lack of a penis on women."

"I know what women look like." He sounds like a child.

"Then you know that they're different. I can't rank one better than the other. Sure, women tend to be more flexible and men blessed with higher stamina," Jesus Christ, he had gone through a lot of people, "but there were exceptions to each. They're people, Ben. That's what I like most. A person. And I have never once been in love with anyone other than you."

"But what is it that you refuse to tell me?" As long winded as that answer was, Caleb still hasn't answered the first question. "Why do you need to lie to me?"

"Because I don't want you to expect that you have to do something."

"Do what? Caleb, would you just tell me."

"Right now, it's not doing any harm. If we start talking about it, then everything will go to shit." Which is unfair, because no one did anything wrong."

"If no one did anything, then you're being ridiculous."

Caleb slumps back against the arm of the sofa. He looks so tired, as if they've been arguing for hours.  Whatever it is, he doesn't like thinking about it. "Ben, you're going to wish I hadn't told you."

"I think I'm better suited to make that judgement." He doesn't have any clue as to could be so disastrous yet not a wrongdoing.

"All right." He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "All right.

None of us knew if we'd survive the war. You told me yourself that you weren't sure you'd make it through the worst of it. Except, in my mind, I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. You were going to live, and you did. But despite what you felt you were going to put this country and family first. You'd take some job or hold office and people would always see you. So you'd what was expected. Marry a pretty girl, raise a family, become a respected elder.

Except, I couldn't do the same. Without you, I would go back to whaling, take up the trade, be whatever. That part would be find. It was the inevitable being pushed aside and treated as if we had only ever been friends, or forgotten, that dug at me. I was so wrapped up in my mind and the goal of getting you to the end of the war unharmed that I thought I couldn't live without you. Kind of hoped it'd happen in a fight. But I survived and survived. So, I figured I'd do the job myself. "

Benjamin coughs out the breath he's barely inhaled. This...changes things. What the hell is wrong with him? "So you put all of the responsibility on me. You can't _make your life dependent on me_ like that, Caleb!"

"You didn't even know. There was no responsibility."

"Except if things went differently. You would have blamed me, Caleb." Every part of him begins sweating. "Is that still your plan? In case something happens to me or we drift apart?"

"No." Caleb grips his knees. "It's crossed my mind a couple of times, but I don't have any plans other than what we have now. I didn't know if I'd be all right without you and I wasn't willing to try. Now, I'm just going to take things as they happen."

"Christ, Caleb. Do you have any idea how manipulative it is?"

"I'm not trying to make you do anything!" he lurches forward onto his knees. "I didn't even want to tell you."

He didn't. Benjamin wanted to know, and Caleb couldn't deny him. Was it worth it, exposing this last lie? Caleb didn't do anything. Neither did Benjamin. No one was at fault until now. Maybe this is both of them. It was Caleb's secret, but Benjamin who demanded to know."

"Let me think this over for a while." He leaves Caleb there, bundling up in this cloak and standing out on the porch. How does someone move forward from this, alone or not? Not to mention that alongside the anger is grief. Caleb had been ready to did. Benjamin too went into battle willing to face death. He just had a different ending in mind. What had stopped him from noticing Caleb's plan to rip open his skull?

First of all, his mind cut in, he was not responsible for the way Caleb had been. He had been a little blind to have not noticed, but he had no control over how Caleb thought. That's it.

Next, is whether or not Caleb still thinks the same. He said he didn't, and Benjamin doesn't think he was lying. Then again, he couldn't tell when Caleb said he had planned to go back to sea. That was months ago, though. They'd come a ways since then. Caleb had been honest since then.

He'll just have to trust him. That leaves his next decision: what to do now. He could leave. Except it'd be more like kicking Caleb out. In the middle of winter. But there's a small living space above the forge and Caleb's slept in worse. Then they'd see each other nearly every day. Benjamin can see him through the schoolhouse windows. It would be awkward and he'd think about tonight every time they ran into each other.

Or, he could do nothing. Take this in and build on it. This was the last secret between the two of them. If they can essentially ignore that Caleb planned suicide, or at least leave it in the past, then nothing will change on the outside. Benjamin will worry about Caleb more, but his fears rarely ring true. More likely than not, Caleb will be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I had to but another notebook to keep writing this. I've got probably another 10-15k words to write and/or type up. 
> 
> The arguments between Ben and Caleb are going to change, specifically how they handle them. There's this and one more, and who knows in what I haven't written yet.


	12. Chapter 12

He's about to go outside to make sure Ben isn't an icicle when the front door opens again. Rachel, who was replacing the tea Ben left, all but runs out of the room. She'd brought him a small tumbler of whiskey, no doubt having heard the argument.  There's no way she wants to get caught up in the disaster that's about to happen. Maybe she'll help him gather his belongings when he leaves the house.

Ben doesn't stop moving until he's right up to the sofa. He notices the fresh tea and Caleb's whiskey, looking slightly affronted.

"If you _ever_ even _try_ to make me feel guilty over anything like this, then we're done. You will not live here, we will not be friends, I will not say hello to you in town. That is my first condition. Second, if you so much as have a fleeting thought of killing yourself again, you have to _tell me_. The war's over, Caleb. It shouldn't be this hard to keep you alive."

Good thing he has a drink. He uncurls his toes in his boots. "Yes." He holds in the bewildered laughter. Ben would take it the wrong way. "I agree."

"Good. Give me some of that." He knocks back the last of Caleb's drink. "I thought I'd have life figured out by now."

He goes to bed early and Caleb is unsure if he should follow. He settles for talking Rachel down from her fear and assures her that Ben neither knows that she was privy to the lie nor that he intends to sell her. Once that's done, he crawls into bed, staring at the points of Ben's shoulders. Gently, he lays his forehead against on tip and closes his eyes. Ben is awake too, but doesn't move for a moment. He reaches back once to brush a hand over Caleb's ear, then tucks his body in and sleeps. Some time later, Rachel's footsteps are on the stairs. It's a good thing she doesn't have to trek through the snow each night. It's going to get colder through the night and no one should be out in the dark.

* * *

Brewster is working hard to prove himself. It had taken all of four days from her mentioning the precariousness of her knowing for the Colonel to find out. Her immediate thought were somewhere along the lines of 'he knows that I know, this is the end, if he doesn't kill me I won't last a week at my new owner's'.' Her prayers were long that night, filled with thanks for saving her ass. She probably shouldn't say ass when praying, but she's done worse.

The two men are working on whatever is is they call themselves. She's not sure how one would go about proving that he was not going to swallow the barrel of a gun. It's working, whatever it is. The Colonel isn't back to normal, but he's no longer eyeing Brewster with uncertainty. She has been hearing bits of him trying to instigate more "talking". She knows because Brewster complains about how tired he is of it by talking to her. She can ignore most of it. Kitchen are usually full of chatter, so it make a mindless noise to work to.

When he runs out of complaints, he begins telling stories. She's not too fond of his jokes, but some of his tales from the war or some sort of traveling he did aren't too bad. She has little idea of what whaling is, and makes the mistake of asking. He spends three days on that one. She does not care about how to hold a harpoon or the distribution of weight on a ship. The little bit about seeing a blue whale breech was good, but it wasn't worth hearing about the gutting. He didn't even mention blood and she'd gotten sick. At least he'd gotten her some water and apologized. Then he teased her for the rest of the day.

The Colonel hasn't attempted conversation again. he's made friends in town and a couple of nights a week is invited to dinner. Some extend the favor to Brewster, but most don't see the point in adding on a lodger. She doesn't set the table those nights. The two of them sit in the kitchen, against the counters with a few plates of food. The man can put away more potatoes than she can fit in the pot. And he'll eat anything. She can make meals she used to share with the other maids and he doesn't care.

He gets her to try some rum, which she was never allowed to go near without supervision of a white person. It burns going down more than she thought it would. Nothing happens. She remembers drunk people well enough, but she feels fine. Brewster explains that hardly anyone gets tipsy off a sip of rum, especially on a full stomach.

If she had a brother, she would already know this. The boys were always given more free reign in the evenings. They would sneak away, come back with bits of tobacco or the end of a piece of chalk they managed to swipe. She and the other girls were all but tied to their mothers. She understood why when she grew older, but it was a little insulting that they would think her so weak that she wouldn't put up a good fight. She would have won, too.

She hopes there's never a dinner party in the house. She couldn't do all that work by herself. She'd need at least one person so one could be in the kitchen and the other serving in the dining room. Not to mention the dishes at the end of the night. She'd work straight on to morning without help.

Despite the never-ending talk and the whole jumping-out-the-window scenario, Brewster is easy to get along with. Nothing she says bothers him, and he's willing to help her carry the dirty dish water out at the end of the night. She appreciates the company, no matter that he's half mad. She hardly crosses paths with the Colonel. He's polite and has reasonable requests, but that's it.

It's been ten days since Brewster said he would ask about her aunt. She's wanted to bring it up again. The few interactions she's had out in town have given her some patience. Those people are close-knit. They were even before the war. Trying to break into that can't be easy. Hes doing a fair job of it. he can tell her what's going on in town and knows the names of people. He's doing good business, too, which means his prices are fair. That will help.

So, she can wait a few more days. She just misses her aunt. She's getting on in year, having been twelve years older than Rachel's mother. It won't be too much longer before her body slows down from the work. Maybe she shouldn't wait. But rushing over there could jinx her aunt.

Now that she's confused herself, she's no idea what to do. Cursing, she wrings out the rag he's holding. On the window sill, the jars she's emptied and washed catch the sunlight as they dry. Behind them, the snow has stopped falling. February is a cold month, but the snow will begin to disappear towards the end of it. Next month, they till the ground. Then the peas are planted in April. Seven months of planting and harvest, then it's winter again.

Brewster's on the same mind. He's been out digging through the snow and walking the land, or what's left of it. With just three mouths, they won't need the entire plot. The field hands were traded over for a spring sow. They pick her up after she's been in with the boar.

The two of them are out for the day. While they work she has the house to herself. That might usually be suspicious, but they don't have anything she can steal. They haven't even bothered to finish furnishing the house. She spends the afternoon going through the pantry. They'll be running low on flour soon. They also need more milk and beef if they keep eating the way they do.

Soon, there's not much left to do. She's kept on top of the cleaning and dinner won't start for another few hours. There's no work to do inside and she's not venturing out. So she takes her pillow and blanket from her room and curls up in them by the kitchen fire, cradling a cup of hot water.  She might as well enjoy the time while she has it.

She wakes sometime later, not sure when she dozed off. A hand is shaking her shoulder. Brewster is crouched down beside her, one hand on her shoulder and the other poking at the flames.

"What time is it?"

"Time to start dinner. What are we having?"

She scrambles up, suddenly forgetting where she's set everything in the kitchen. "Um. That salted pork and the last of the broccoli. There's bread somewhere."

"Take your time. It's not as if we've been starved for days. I'll tell Ben you needed to fix the flue before you could start."

"The flue, right. I've got the pork in that. Warm the bread. Oh, my aunt?" She's turning in circles. "No, I can wait on that."

"I spoke to the Smiths." He hangs the poker back, frowning at the layers of rust. "I'll tell you about it later."

It's bad news, then. They won't let her see her aunt. She'll have to find another way. She throws everything over the fire, trying to figure out where to start. It definitely can't happen while her aunt's masters are home. Her two chances are during the day when no one is home, or at night. If anyone stops her at night, they'll think she's running away. If they stop her during the day, she has no alibi. Neither is particularly pleasing.

Brewster won't meet her eyes while she's in the dining room. He's teasing the Colonel about something, and the later is blushing violently. There's no way of knowing when the Smiths will be away. The only guarantee is in the dark, when they're asleep. Going through the woods, it'll take about an hour, figuring in the roundabout route and that she won't be able to see all that well. When she gets there, she won't know where to begin looking. That may take another ten or fifteen minutes. More, if the other slaves refuse to help her. That's not too bad. She'll need to balance the time so she can make it back before anyone else is up. All that's left is to pick a good night to do so. She'll need as much moonlight as possible so she doesn't trip and break her neck. After dinner she can check the sky to see how far out the next full moon is.

And she means to do so. But as she's bringing the last of the plates in, Brewster follows her into the kitchen.

"There was bad news. From the Smiths."

She knows this already. He's just wasting her time now.

"Rachel, your aunt is dead."

That doesn't make any sense. She just was her a few months ago. She was fine.

"Are you sure?"

"That's what they told me. Would they have any reason to lie?"

"No." If they didn't want her visiting, they would have said so. The Smiths are honest people. They own the small dry goods store and have never cheated a customer. "When?"

"Some time before Christmas."

That was over a month ago. "Did someone, or something...?"

"No. She fell ill, a heavy cough that wouldn't leave her. She didn't improve, even with bed rest." He sighs. "They told me nothing else. If you would like some time to visit her grave, you'll have it." He backs out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.

Her aunt was the only family she had left. There were no cousins, no other aunts or any uncles. There would never be siblings. It was only her aunt's words, and one brawl, that removed her mother's label of pariah. Rachel was never considered family by anyone else.

Now, she's alone. She crouches where she stands, chest colliding with her knees as she sobs. The pull that's resided under her sternum since her mother died tightens. She's sure that if she looks, there will be  a hole under her rib cage, where her body has pulled in on itself. She could could slide her hand in and feel the curve of her bones, all the way around to where she could grip her throat.

* * *

A few days later, she rides into town with the Colonel and Brewster. They part ways at the church. The Colonel will attend the service and Brewster will take her to the Smiths' property. The family will be at church and the slaves in the house. It's blowing snow something awful. The rim of Brewster's hat reaches somewhat over her head, but does nothing to block the wind. The horse, however, is doing fine. She's only been on one once before, and she's got the scars on her elbows from when she landed to prove it. She's bundled up in two dresses and a borrowed cloak, gripping the back of Brewster's coat to stay on the animal. She understands the beard now. Her cheeks are freezing, and she can see ice forming on his hair.

"We're almost there." He points to the house. "You're not frozen back there, are you?"

"No." She rubs her nose on her shoulder. "It'll be in back, far from the house."

Most people would stop at the front of the house and leave the horse there. Brewster walks it around the side, ignoring the hand who comes out of the barn. A face peers out the window as they pass, probably wondering who's tall enough to walk in sight of the windows, but disappears soon after. The Smiths don't grow many crops, so there's only a small garden and an oat field to supplement their supply at the store. Behind those are three small rooms. Then behind those are wooden crosses climbing out of the snow.

She slowly climbs off the horse, not too excited about wading through the drift. Brewster leads the horse away and stands in the shelter of the trees. Some of the crosses are weathered and drooping to the side. The further down the row, the better shape they're in. The last still has sharp edges. It must have been hell trying to dig in the frozen ground.

This is where she's supposed to say something or maybe it's to pray. Except she doesn't know what to say. Her mother didn't have a grave. The illness was too severe for anyone to risk catching it. There's a small plot in her honor, but nothing buried there.

Being here is meant to be sentimental, but she can't feel anything. There's no rush of sadness. Maybe it's because this is a new space. All the memories she has of her aunt are back at the house. Or it could take a few minutes. But nothing happens. Her feet start to go numb, and that's about it. The weather could be getting in the way.

She stands a little while longer, more out of pretense than anything. The wind shifts to blow directly into her face and she decides it's time to go. Brewster has to help her onto the horse, so he rides behind her. Otherwise she'd have gotten a foot to the head. Now going the opposite way, he again gets the brunt of the wind.

"Are we waiting at the church?" She isn't allowed inside, so she'd have to stay with the horses.

"No. Ben will meet us at home." He tries to kick the horse up from a walk, but it refuses. "How'd the visit go?"

"You were ten yards away."

"I didn't watch."

"It was quiet. Neither of us said anything." She wasn't expecting much on the other end. "Should have said a prayer."

"She's already dead. There's no point in prayer."

"That's not the point. You're supposed to pray or talk or something at graves."

"And for those who don't have graves? They aren't any less deserving. Sometimes, we don't have any prayers. Nothing to do about it."

"You an expert on the subject?"

"I don't go to church that often and pray maybe every five years. But I've seen enough men go down. Once they're gone, it's just a body. Graves are tokens. I'd rather have something I can keep with me than a stone in the ground."

"My aunt didn't have any belongings."

They ride the rest of the way in silence. He lets her off at the house before putting the horse away. there's dishes she left soaking over the fire and an old cloth bundled up against he door to stop drafts. Exactly as she left it.

Now, here's a sadness. She remembers her aunt in this kitchen, helping teach the girls how to set the platters. She too went through everything. She started with the laundry. That built up the strength in her arms. When she was strong enough, she could carry dishes. Between setting and clearing the table, she learned how to cook. Most of her life was spent in the company of the women who kept the house standing. All of them are gone now, either dead or sold. Maybe if there were someone else, her aunt's passing would be easier.

The tea is ready when the Colonel arrives, and she sets it out before he enters the room. All she wants right now is to sit by herself. Sit and take in what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be transitioning out of Ben and Caleb dealing with each other to them dealing with other people. This may take a while. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo again this year, and it's using up a lot of the time I'm not at work.


	13. Chapter 13

The parting is easier this time. Ben's been away so much that the change isn't as dramatic. Besides, they've made it before. Regardless, it's hard. Caleb goes straight to work and begins the fine work on the clock pieces. outside, people are preparing for the change from winter to spring. Land will need to be tilled, houses repaired from the winter storms, and children will have outgrown their summer clothes. It's all anyone can think about, really.

He's going to plant an apple tree, he's decided. A few sees have been juggling around in his coat pocket since he entertained the idea in the fall. He just needs to find a good spot and start the seedlings. To do so, he enlists Rachel's help. By having her hold a light steady while he rummages through the useless junk in a pile at the back of the barn. He stands triumphant with a cracked mug and an old liquor bottle. He can break off the neck of the bottle later. Rachel gives him the remnants of old napkins to start with.

The kitchen is the warmest room in the house, but they'll be disturbed while Rachel works. He sets the mug upside down on a south-facing windowsill, the napkin on top of that. He wraps the seeds inside and pours water over to soak the fabric.

"Can't you just stick them in the dirt?"

"Yes. But this way, I know if they've sprouted. I don't have a large crop to take chances with." He leaves them be. "How've you been?"

"Brewster, we live in the same house."

"We do. Doesn't mean I know everything." He hasn't spoken to her much these past few days, trying to fit in as much time with Ben before he left.

"I'm all right. Not as good as I used to be, but I'll live." Her back cracks as she stretches slightly. "And you? I heard that fight. Or most of it, really. Didn't want to stick around."

"We're working on it. He still looks at me strangely, but it's started to lessen."

"Is he trying to figure out if you'll kill yourself?"

"No. I won't. Somewhere in there I got so focused on keeping him alive that I thought we were sharing fates."

"So if he kicks you out tomorrow?"

"I'd probably go visit my brother. Find a replacement for the forge and figure it out from there."

"You have a brother?"

"Two Used to be a big family, but our numbers have dropped." He remembers the bullet ripping a path through his uncles' neck. "You have any siblings?"

"No."

"Cousins?"

"My aunt wasn't exactly the ideal woman. She broke her only suitor's nose."

"Damn. Your father was an old child?"

"I don't have any cousins." She turns towards the kitchen. "Chicken tonight. One of the birds stopped laying."

"Is it the one that looks at me funny?"

"No." She pulls the top half of her apron up to tie at her neck. "And it would stop if _you_ stopped trying to kick it."

"It wants to peck my eyes out." It chased him down just the other day.

"It's a chicken. Don't be afraid."

"I am. I'm afraid of that lunatic, you're afraid of being sold, and Ben's afraid of the scenarios he makes up in his head." But not much else. "It's a perfect balance."

"I"m not afraid of being sold."

"You were very against it. Someone out there you don't want to see?"

"No."

"Oh, come on. I told you my secret." He leans on the table, trying to make his face into some kind of sad expression.

"No."

"I'm going to keep asking."

"Go on, then." She keeps her back to him as she slathers the meat.

"Is it anything bad?" He has to make sure before he starts teasing her. "Is it anything that could come back here?"

"No. If it ever becomes a danger to either of you, I will tell you."

"So you're already in danger."

"No, I'm not. I don't see the point in telling you if that changed."

"Because we share a roof. Someone comes after you, we're not going to let them do anything. We'll probably end up in the middle of it without trying anyways."

"No one is going to come after me."

"So being here mans you're safe." He moves his hands before she can crush them with the skillet. Her face is blank, so he can't tell if she's lying or trying not to give anything away. "But safe from whom?"

"The Jersey Devil. Don't touch that chicken."

"Now, my first guess could be someone in town. But, if it were, they could have had you killed before, when the house was auctioned off. Even someone poor could have demanded it and being the hierarchy that it is..."

She stares at him, but it's not one of exasperation. She think he's figured it out. So, it is someone in town, but it isn't a rich or poor person. There's only one other group.

"You're afraid of the other slaves."

"I'm not _afraid_ of them."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Was your father the most hated negro in town?" Pause. "The most loved in town and everyone hated your mother for snatching him up first?" Silence. "Same questions, but switch your mother and father. Is it something you did?"

"No to all."

"But it is something about your father." He narrows it down. "Either he did something to upset everyone. Or he's white."

"Both."

This raises the kinds of questions she likely wants to avoid. But he's never understood the fear that others have for these things. "You and your mother aren't the first ones for this to...happen to. Hell, it happened in Setauket. People talked, but no one would do any harm."

"It's different everywhere. Setauket reacted well, good. I can't expect the same if I leave this property."

"And this man?"

"He was her master. The wife was understandably angry, though inexplicably at my mother. I came out dark, so no one in the town suspected anything. they must have heard rumors, but as you can see-" She gestures to her face.

"What if you'd been born looking white?"

"I'd be a pariah." She shrugs. "I could have left town then, and figure out something."

"Did you think we would tell everyone if we knew?"

"I didn't know either way. But at least now I can take you down with me."

"We can be an outcast trio. Perform shows, build our own exhibit."

"I would need it. There's no work that'll take me. I think it just unnerves people, knowing that some things so separate from each other can mix. Of course, then, are they as separate as we'd like?"

"Wasn't the ocean enough?"

"Not for slave traders."

"Was your mother born here?"

"Yes. My grandfather was African. he didn't take kindly to being chained and died seven years after he arrived."

Caleb frowns and rubs at his thumb knuckle. There's been nothing but death for so long. "The miracles of the new world."

"First the witch hunts, not everything else."

"You know about that?" He had to wrench the story out of his schoolteacher.

"Well, I am a witch." She waggles her fingers. "I'm casting a spell right now." The oil in the skillet pops, so she goes back to handling the meat. "Hand me that break and I'll warm it up. The carrots too."

He sits still while she finishes up. "One of my great-grandmothers died on the trip."

"Did she get sick?" Rachel spoons food onto two plates and sits up on the other stool.

"Kind of. The palsy did it. Used to run in the women, but my uncles got it too. Now we're all up for it."

"Cheers, then," she raises her water, not as partial to rum as he is, "to possibly dying young."

He knocks his cup against hers. "As friends?"

She sighs and raises her eyebrows. "Fine."

"We're going to be buddies. I'm going to work on it."

"I don't think that's how friendship happens."

He had to pester Ben for weeks for him to be his friends. Being all of seven or so, it wasn't that difficult. Later, though, the love came naturally. Of course, he had to decide not too long ago what exactly he was going to do with it. He's made very few choices in his life. Most of his time has been spent following what felt right. But he decided to change things. He can decide to be a friend to Rachel.

* * *

Brewster has taken to teaching her drinking games. They're not all that scandalous, considering she sticks to water or tea and he never even gets tipsy. The rules are vague and she's not sure why a die is involved, so she just listens to his ramblings for the most part.

"We never did find his finger, but he did fin without it. Could still pull a net in with the rest of us."

"He's lucky he didn't lose his arm."

"That happened once too. The man became the ship's cook."

He leans back against the counter and yawns. He didn't eat his usual amount, either. "Are you getting sick?"

"No. Just off today."

He's going to be one of _those_ people. Denying he's ill right up to the point of keeling over. Hopefully he lasts the next few days. She's not strong enough to drag him up a flight of stairs.

"Shouldn't a kitchen have room to not fall into the fire?" He's trying to draw further back from the flames.

"The dining room expanded in on it about forty years ago."

"That's just a waste of space. We could fix that." He looks over at her. "You know how to use a hammer, right?"

"I'm a maid. I work in a kitchen."

"I'll teach you. We just need lumber and whatever is on the walls."

"You mean wallpaper. I doubt you'll find an exact match."

"Not that concerned, really. I'll get supplies tomorrow."

He slides off the stool and disappears. Hopefully he knows he'll be doing all the work. She is obviously going to clean up after him. Division of labor. Then there's the inevitable reaction of the Colonel when he returns to find his house torn apart.  She has an inkling that it won't be good.

The next day, Brewster returns with long pieces of lumber. As promised, he hands her a rather menacing looking hammer and lines out where to knock pieces of wall out. He drags the old lumber out to clear the space then climbs up a ladder to mark squares on the ceiling.

"None of the support beams to the house are in that wall, so we don't need to worry about that."

As if she knows why that's important.

She's then delegated to hold the lumber upright while he finishes attaching it in place. It's wedged in there well, so she mainly worries he'll fall and crack his head open. It's the same when he adds more pieces, these laying flat. However, by the end of the first day they've taken down the wall and have the bones of another up.

The eat sitting between the counter and the new wall. Brewster says that he'll take the counters up when they finish and reattach them. There isn't much holding them in place. They're basically tables nailed together and stuck to a wall. It's just a matter of moving it, along with all the pots and pans on the shelves underneath.

His appetite hasn't improved, and he's slowed down considerably. Immediately after eating he goes to bed. She may end up with a hole in the kitchen for some time. She has a small cup of rum to help accept that.

The next day follows in much of the same fashion. She goes about as usual, helps him put up the wooden slats, and watches as he drags the counter tops over to the new wall. The floors need a good scrubbing, but the damage isn't too bad. Brewster all but falls asleep in his dinner, for which she stubbornly made a stew. Might as well start early.

Then, it's the day the Colonel arrives back. Brewster has developed a pale face, but can still get food down. She won't be alone for the worst of it. Shen the floors are clan and she's got laundry soaking, Rachel pulls a stool out and for the first time can stretch her legs out in front of the fire.

* * *

Ben comes back midday. Caleb first sees him through the window, caught in conversation while trying to get inside the shop.Once he extracts himself he's able to duck in and grins with tired eyes and cheeks red from the wind. Then he frowns.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Yes. Am I turning a different color or growing a fifth limb? Or sixth, really."

Ben rolls his eyes. "You look a little pale, actually." He comes over and puts the back of his hand to Caleb's forehead. "I don't think you have a fever, though. Some of the children were ill before I left. Maybe you're catching the same thing from their parents."

"Does this mean you won't kiss me?"

"Not on the mouth, no." He presses his lips against Caleb's temple quickly. "You should take the rest of the day off. Get some sleep and good food."

"My new mother, now, are you?"

"I hope you didn't share a bed with your mother."

He takes his cloak off. The uniform always surprises Caleb. He doesn't like thinking of Ben as a soldier anymore. Soldiers die.

"You haven't been home yet?"

"No. Why?"

"There are some changes in the house. The dining room is a bit smaller than you may remember."

Ben sighs. "Please tell me there still _is_ one."

"Of course."

He doesn't elaborate further. Ben, for his part, looks his usual amount of frustrated. It fades within a few minutes. He leans against Caleb's back at the workbench. Occasionally this results in Caleb's elbow fining it's way into his ribs. After a few of these, they end the day to save Ben a few bruises.

Ben sees the wall.

"You do realize that it doesn't exactly blend in."

"is it that important that they match?"

"A little, yes."

"Rachel needed some more space. Besides, she said this is how the house was built."

"Did she mention anything about about rest instead of construction?" Ben feels his forehead again.

"Yes, Ma. Even made me eat soup last night."

"Good." He points to the stairs. "Now, let's get you in bed."

"You coming too?"

"Yes. No other way to make sure you stay put."

For all his fussing, Caleb's muscles do ache. He stretches out on his side shile Ben changes out of his uniform. He climbs in beside Caleb and sit up against the headboard.

"How was the trip?"

"Like the last one."

"You didn't do _anything_?"

"Saw more of the city." He tries to slip it in nonchalantly. "And I stopped to visit my father."

Caleb isn't all that bothered. "He's doing all right?"

"For the most part. He's starting to show his age, though. It's a good thing he moved house."

"Was he the usual amount of disappointed that I've stuck around?"

Ben clears his throat, a sure sign of stalling. "I didn't tell him."

It's not anything dramatic, but Caleb still gets angry. Which is strange, because he understands and sympathizes with Ben. Yet, his blood pounds a little harder.

"You're upset."

"No I'm not. Well, yes, but I don't know why. That was the best thing to do." He hopes saying it out loud will help. "You haven't seen your father in some time. it wasn't necessary to bring it up. I would have done the same, so don't take it to heart. It's as if I'm angry with what's led up to that, not you. Or maybe I'm not angry at all, and it's just indigestion."

"You're ill. Now, close your eyes."

His fingers com up and brush over Caleb's face. The room is dark and warm. It's too early to sleep, but a nap can't hurt.

He dreams, which is an oddity in itself. It's broken by small bouts of wakefulness. Sometimes he cannot find Ben in the bed. He drams that he is back in the arctic, as a harpooner perched on the bow of the boat. His aim is off, and the whale turns to attack, the shaft of the harpoon a warning as it approaches. When he lands in the water he cannot swim. He grabs for the edge of the boat, but the men push his head down and pry his fingers loose. He wants to scream at them, but he doesn't recognize their faces. They're all strangers. They're trying to kill him.

He's cold when he wakes for the last time, but he's got a layer of sweat across his face and down his back. Ben is curled up on the other side of the bed. it's not that late, because he can hear Rachel stacking dishes in the kitchen.

Slowly, and with less energy than he'd like, he takes the stairs down. Rachel must have anticipated this, as there's another bowl of soup and a jug of water waiting for him.

"You've been plotting with Ben."

"I've seen enough people grow sick to know to start early. Do you have a fever yet?"

" _No._ "

She feels his forehead and neck. "Not too bad. You should start to improve in a few days." She takes his empty bowl. "in the meantime, you need rest."

Ben is still asleep. Caleb doesn't even get the chance to straighten is pillow before he's asleep again. He doesn't dream again, waking in the morning to Ben shaking him.

"Caleb. I have to go now. If I stay, people will wonder why, and..."

" 's ok." He closes his eyes."

It looks just about high noon when Rachel appears with food. He gets as much of the bread and broth down as he can, but his stomach is churning. He's sick.

Fuck.

She makes him drink half a cup of ginger tea before she clears the dishes. It soothes his stomach for a while, but the nausea eventually wins over. Rather than sit in the same room as a chamber pot full of sick, he opens a window and hoists the upper half of his body through.

Having emptied his stomach, he doesn't need to keep getting out of bed. Most of the day passes either asleep or trying to sleep. Ben stays with him during the evening and constantly checks that he's comfortable. During the night, Caleb wakes to find Ben replacing the blankets he's kicked off.

Church is the next day, so Ben leaves Rachel in his place. She's pulled a chair up alongside the bed and is patching one of their shirts. "Your fever isn't too bad. It shouldn't get too serious."

"It's not going to cook my brains inside my skull?" It sounds as if he's shouting, the words are so loud in his head.

"Or kill you." She pulls the blanket back down over his feet. "You'll sweat it out soon enough. Don't know where you picked it up, though."

"Ben thinks it was at the forge, parent with a sick child."

She hums and returns to her sewing. He's happy he can still breathe. He hates getting colds, not that this is much better. He can't make himself sleep anymore. He's been trying all morning. So now he's exhausted on top of ill. Needless to say, he's not at his best when Ben comes back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Dumbass."

"Great."

Caleb's head pounds as Ben runs a palm across it. " 'm sick."

"I'd say you are. Nice to see you've noticed. You've been odd lately."

"Not angry, though. You know that, right?"

Ben tilts his head in confusion. "You mean what we spoke about? Me visiting my father?" He exhales heavily. "I know we didn't go into it, but you've explained it enough. I know."

"You sure? We can talk about it if you need."

"I'm sure. Now leave it be. You're half asleep and haven't have a full meal yet. You're not running at your best."

He's right. Caleb is only paying attention with half his mind. The other half if trying not to dry heave. He'll realize later what an idiot he's making of himself.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell him. You don't know if you will always want to stay like this. You can't see your future. No one can."

"Caleb," Ben tries to get him on his side, towards the edge of the bed. "What are you mumbling?" He finally succeeds. "Just relax. You can tell me later."

"You know," he spies the bucket by the bed side, "one of us is going to end up dead in this."

He then promptly vomits the dribble of water in his stomach while Ben is leaning down to hear him.


	14. Chapter 14

The sleep did good. His headache is gone, though his joints are stiff. He can't roll his neck without a twinge of pain and he attributes this to being in bed for so long. Rachel displaces him to the armchair so she can strip the bed. She says he still has a fever, so he has to sit bundled in one of the blankets. It wasn't that long ago he could shake an illness in two days. This may be part of getting older.

"How much longer have I got to stay like this?"

"You keep warm, and your fever should go tomorrow. Maybe the day after. We'll start you on some food again." She shakes a pillow roughly and some of his fair drifts off it. "Then you'll need a few days to recover. Depending on what you have, could be longer for you to be back to normal."

"I'm fine now. I'm not talking in my sleep, either." He had woken Ben up by arguing about whether something was blue.

"He should have asked you where you hide your money."

"What money?" He's had to replace so many of this things that what's left has been put into his share of food and some furniture. Rachel shakes out a sheet above the bed and starts tucking it in. "Christ, woman, are you trying to fold the mattress in half?"

"You know a lot about making beds, then?"

The door opens and closes downstairs. She leaves Ben to take off his cloak and hat himself. They've all realized that it's quicker not to have her come running every time they enter the house. He makes it up the stairs about the same time Rachel is arguing to Caleb to get back in to bed.

"First I have to get in this chair. Now you want me to go back. I've been in that bed for three days. I am staying here."

"And when your legs fall asleep?"

"Caleb." Ben approaches him. "You're not even sitting up. Just walk back over."

His walking is pathetic. He's got a pain in his back and his knees are still stiff. Ben flaps his hands around in some sort of helping gesture. Just turning in place makes his stomach roil again.

"I don't think I should move again."

"Good. I think Rachel left to get you some broth. Try lying back a little." Ben lifts his legs up, then takes a seat next to them. "Meanwhile, I'm a little confuse as to what you were trying to say yesterday. Do you remember?"

"Of course I do. Fever wasn't that bad. Mostly I was just repeating things."

"Ok." Ben nods.

"That's all? I was expecting more of an argument."

"You were exhausted." He shrugs. "And I'm tired of getting worked up over everything. I'd rather use my time in better pursuits."

"You know that means you're becoming an old man, right?"

"I'm sorry. Which one of us is older?" Ben makes a point, not that Caleb will go along with it.

"You."

Ben frowns. "You're back to yourself." He kicks off his boots and crawls over Caleb. "He wasn't the same when I saw him. Between losing Samuel, then not knowing if I was alive, and now Issac is God knows where, he just needs time to himself."

"He'll get there." Caleb doesn't remember much of his glimpse of Ben's father during the war. He'd stayed with the troops for a few days before resettling in a patriot controlled village for the duration of the war. Caleb dug a grave for his uncle and got drunk for two weeks. "He survived a war before we did."

"He did. Once he's started to really improve, I'll see if I can broach a question or something."

"Do what you need to. Also, I may not be able to keep things down, so you might not want to sit so close."

Probably remembering the previous day, Ben scrambles to the end of the bed. Caleb's laughing at him when Rachel returns., and she looks just about as pleased with Caleb as Ben is. Or it could just be her face.

* * *

Now that March has arrived, it's time to start planting. Caleb has been teaching the Colonel how to till and prepare the field. The horses are enjoying the work after spending all winter cooped up. Their legs haven't had the chance to stretch like this in some time. Rachel follows behind the plow picking out the larger rocks and dead roots of past harvests.

She sits down with them as they plan out where to plant what. Again, it appears that the Colonel is a bit at a loss. He watches as she and Caleb disagree on the best spot for the onions. He must have come from a family that valued education over hard labor. She may not be able to spell all the names of the vegetables, but she can grow them. You can't eat words on a page. Besides, Caleb has drawn a picture of each vegetable on the small map, so she doesn't have to keep asking what they are planting next to each other.

"Beans and peas cannot go side by side."

"That's a carrot."

"Then you should have drawn a carrot."

"That _is_ a carrot. Right, Ben?"

The Colonel glances at the paper then looks between the two of them. "I didn't realize you two were friends."

"People like me. Everyone likes me."

"But not for your drawing abilities."

He challenges her to draw better. Even though she never learned how to hold the charcoal correctly, she does a much better job. Then rubs his nose in it. The Colonel watches them, but doesn't appear scandalized or upset. Not that long ago he told her Caleb could get along with anyone. They're not exactly getting along, but there's no real malice. It's a little reminiscent of when she was friends with the other girls, just a bit more swearing.

"We'll need more to make it through a year."

Caleb hums in agreement. "The full crop should double it."

"Are you selling any?"

"Won't need to." The Colonel shakes his head. "Property is being ought up and reclaimed. People are coming back to work their land."

"Just what we need, more of you people."

It's out of her mouth before she can swallow it. The Colonel looks surprised, but Caleb laughs enough for both of them.

* * *

The fresh air makes Benjamin tired as the day goes on. He's no longer shut inside the house after lessons. When he and Caleb return, they work for a couple of hours before dinner. He recalls once trying to help Caleb and his family on their farms. He could hardly move the next day. But the army built up his strength, and now he can match Caleb's work. It took them a few days, but they got the garden area cleared away. They hauled the sod to the edge of the property to dry it out. Later they can knock the soil from the roots. It takes on of the horses all of twenty minutes to till the plot.

There's a couple broken cups filled with dirt that Caleb's been minding. Not one with a green thumb, Benjamin has stayed away from them. He's not sure what's in there. Rachel has been saving seeds from the canned foods, so there might be seedlings started. Most of the seeds are going right into the garden, though. With enough luck, most will take. All they need to buy are squash and some herbs. Then it's time to plant.

"We're almost done with the garden. Is there anything we can do with all that space?" There's a stretch of grass with nothing on it. Seeing as neither of them is one for strolling around to pass the time, they might as well find some use for it.

"'Course there are." Caleb shifts his weight on the back of Benjamin's thighs to press down with the heels of his hands. There's a soft pop and his back loosens. "What were you thinking of?"

"I'd kind of like to have a table out there. Or even just a couple of chairs to sit in."

"Sounds nice."

"Mm-hm." They've stayed up later than usual. Even Rachel wandered to bed over an hour ago. The heat from the fire and Caleb's hands is making him sleepy. "Come here," he pats the bed beside him. Caleb lies down, head propped up on a hand. "When did we get so domestic?"

"When you settled down and I went along."

"Lucky me," he says sarcastically, and Caleb flicks his nose.

"I'm a hell of a lot better than any wife you'd find."

"So you're the wife in this scenario?"

"Fuck no." He pulls the blankets up as Benjamin scoots in closer. "We're husbands."

"Except we're not married."

"We're good as. We share a bed, a table, and entire house. Now we're making plans for the future. Nothing else to it. Besides, no one would marry us." Caleb's voice is getting slow and rough, a sign he's getting towards the end of his day.

"We don't need that. We could do it ourselves. Don't go to sleep yet."

"I think someone would notice us conducting a ceremony." Caleb's a heavy lump. His body rolls as Benjamin pushes at him to sit up.

"We could do it now. No one's in the church. The rectory is at least fifty yards away from the doors."

Caleb squints up at him. "You want to sneak into a church?"

"I don't _want_ to. It's a necessary action for the final goal."

"Which is?"

"Ideally, be your husband. It won't count in the eyes of the law, but I really don't expect God to give a rat's ass considering the recent death and general violence."

Caleb snorts. "The door locked at night?"

"Yes."

They watch each other for a moment, then Caleb turns his head into the pillow and huffs. That's a good sign. Excitement already has Benjamin energized. It's got him ready to go at a moment's notice. He's not often this way, mostly due to the embarrassment he feels over it. When he was young, his family purposely avoided telling him Samuel had been born so his mother could rest without him begging to see the babe and asking questions all hours of the day and night. Thinking about Samuel still causes a twinge of grief, which he pushes away. He's not to dwell on the past any more, and there's a more important item on the agenda.

"I'll get a couple things. Need some trousers first." Caleb groans as he pushes himself off the bed. He wanders around the room, picking up clothes and looking through drawers. He'd shoved his belongings into two disorganized boxes when moving in. Benjamin had a fright once when he opened the wardrobe and the tomahawk fell out. There's a mark in the floor where the blade struck.

"You have a lock picking kit?" He's anxious some, pacing as Caleb dresses at his leisure. He's picked out several small tools.

"Haven't had to use it in a long time. We can probably get in through a window." He pats down his pockets. "Ready?"

Benjamin is jittery and keeps tugging Caleb along, who shushes him repeatedly. The majority of the walk isn't too bad. They take a long route, behind properties. The wagons farmers use to move grains and livestock have left a path. Though it's muddy and uneven, it offers seclusion. The roads in the center of town are lit by the tavern and inn. These are a good until they have to leave the path to get back into town. Caleb guides him over the rickety bridges, somehow able to see well in the dark.

When they get closer to the church, Benjamin is afraid the reverend will catch them. He feels as if they're carrying several lanterns. He's practically on top of Caleb he's following so close.

"Tall-boy, that's the fourth time you've managed to step on my leg."

"Sorry." They're close to the church now, so he lets off and steps up against the building.

"Give me a second. One of these windows should open easy." He slides a knife between the shutters and slides it up. It catches on something and then he's able to pull them open. Behind them the window slides quietly. "Look at that, first try." It is somewhat impressive, though it is mostly due to coincidence.

Benjamin follows him in, crawling head first through the narrow space. The church looks different in the dark, almost sinister. Caleb's shut the shutters behind them so no one cam tell the difference. The only light is coming in through the window high above the pulpit. Caleb grips his arm, then his hand while they wait for their eyes to adjust again. Benjamin grips it back.

"Up here." He stations them between the pews and the pulpit, adjusts Caleb's stance and his own. Then his mind dries up and he doesn't know what to say. He can't even recall the weddings his father used to officiate.

"I love you." Caleb bumps their foreheads together. He's taken Benjamin's silence as a cue.

Benjamin repeats it back. He curls one hand loosely behind Caleb's neck. The other is still holding his hand. "I give myself you you, to be your husband. Through, as what does it start with?"

"Ben, we've already been though everything." Caleb's whispering, and Benjamin can tell he's watching him in the weak light. "I give myself to you as your husband. I will love you until the day I die."

Benjamin should probably say it back, but he's a little busy pulling Caleb's mouth forward to kiss him. He's a little embarrassed that tears leak out of the corners of his eyes, though he doesn't pay attention for long.

"This is it. We've already made it through the worst." His hand aches, he's squeezing so hard. "I'll love you forever." There's no shaking of the earth, no big fanfare. "We're married. If I knew it'd only take a few seconds, I wouldn't have been so nervous."

"Short and to the point. I like it." Caleb's free hand rests against Benjamin's rib cage. "But let's just wait here for a moment."

They stay like that, breathing quietly in the dark. It's cold, the fires having run down hours ago. Little clouds of breath form, barely distinguishable. There's a strange quality to time, and it brushes everything until it's just a bit different. Like when the sun rises at just the right moment to wrap you up and cradle you in light. Caleb might call this magic, and his father would name it as God's work, at least in years past. Benjamin, however, thinks it's what happens when they're together. It's what makes him want to watch as listen to Caleb in the still and silent moments.

Right now, though, he can't feel his ears. Regardless of what his heart feels, he's in the middle of a dark building on a winter's night. They're the only part of him that are neither covered nor warmed by Caleb. On cue, Caleb starts fidgeting. "We should leave soon, shouldn't we?" He's no idea what time it is. They've only been inside maybe five minutes, but they can't wait around.

"People will start waking up. Besides, it's a walk back."

Benjamin nods, careful not to knock their heads. "Too bad we can't have a party after."

"Maybe Rachel will bake a cake if we ask nice."

He goes out the window first, and gets his foot caught. He more or less falls once he frees it. Caleb follows in a more graceful action. He shuts the window and replaces the shutters, but there's nothing to do about the latch. The revered may notice, but they didn't disturb anything, so he may attribute it to a mistake.

It's still dark when they crawl back into bed. Benjamin does not miss having to be up before dawn. He still has to get up for lessons, however. That's not for another few hours. He pokes Cale in the back, having curled himself around him. "You realize that this is morning, and we technically still have a wedding night."

"Did you think I wouldn't notice that?"

"Just making sure." He waits for his eyes to close. "We aren't going to get any sleep, are we?"

"Not if you keep talking."

He can't tell if Caleb actually sleeps. He hangs on the edge of consciousness, measuring Caleb's breaths between his arms. When the sky turns to shades of pink and yellow, he can hear Rachel leave her room. Not long after, the sunlight hits the top of the trees. Caleb rolls to his other side, looking how Benjamin feels.

"Why did we think staying awake all night was a good idea?"

"Because we've done it before, usually while hiding in the trees and dirt."

"Hmm. Did I ever tell you Abe tried to fight me off with a stick one night? When I was waiting at the drop off."

Caleb's laugh is a sleepy version of its boisterous self. "What an idiot."

"We should visit Setauket. You can come to New York with me, and we'll stop by before coming back."

"When do you leave?"

"Little less than a week."

"And what is my excuse for leaving town?"

"That you're visiting family and we might as well travel together. It's so close to the truth you won't have to lie."

Caleb sighs as he gets up. "You and your spry ring."

Rachel has breakfast started in the kitchen. Benjamin is more hungry that usual, which happens when he's been up late. the day has barely started and he's trying to decide whether to inhale his toast of fall asleep on it.

* * *

The three of them work fast to get the seeds in the ground. Rachel works during the day when she has time. Then Caleb and the Colonel pick up when they finish work. Caleb is leaving on the upcoming trip  too, so any more work left over will have to be done by her.

The two of them are up to something, or otherwise looking forward to the trip. Their moods have heightened. She's never mentioned it to Caleb, but she's seen them kiss. They'd been planing a board game and the Colonel was obviously winning. Caleb reached over to shove him, but softened it by standing up and kissing him. Rachel blinked and it was over, Caleb returning to his seat.

They've both been kind to her and she doesn't wish them harm, but her stomach still curdles when she thinks about it. When it coincides with whatever is going on with them, it disgruntles her. Still, she's able to push it to the back of her mind for the day. She remembers it when she and Caleb are dismantling what's left of a turkey, the Colonel at dinner elsewhere.

"Something has changed." Caleb looks up from slicing the last slivers off. "What have you two done?"

"We got married." He shrugs. "Or as close as we could get."

" _Oh._ "

He chuckles into his cup. "I take it you don't approve."

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"Because you're a slave?" He dishes the turkey between them. "Do you mind the dark meat?"

"No. And yes, I don't exactly have the option of quitting and looking for new work. I'll put up with it. I'm not either one of you, so it's your relationship...marriage...not mine. I can work separate from it."

"You're still speaking to me, so that's a good sign."

"It's unsettling, not just being disgusted or outraged. Neither of you are hurting anyone but yourselves. It is more of liking things to stay as they have. One man, one woman, done."

"Because a man and a woman can produce children." He doesn't sound angry.

"Isn't that the point of marriage?"

"For some people."

She's thinking about her mother and herself. She was not the result of a marriage. If Caleb's thinking the same thing, he doesn't remind her.

"Rachel, have you ever been married?"

"No." There will never me marriage or children for her, not with her bloodline.

"Was there ever anyone?"

"As a child. He died." It's not that hard to talk about. There was no real love between them. "He only liked me because he was told not to. Couldn't resist a challenge. But it was flattering while it lasted."

"What happened?"

"Something went missing. He'd been in trouble before, and he was a suspect. They hanged him on that oak out front."

"Did he do it?"

"Don't know." It doesn't matter. He's been dead for nearly two decades. "Wouldn't have married anyway. Surprised you two did."

"Why?"

"Buggery is illegal, but the church doesn't seek out extra punishment. How do you think this town is going to feel when they learn you've taken marriage too?" She refills their cups. "Most of the people out there have a stick and bible shoved up their ass."

"Then it won't help that we broke into the church to do so."

What did he think it would do? "They may chase you out of town."

"That'll be exciting. Do you want us to bring you anything from the city?"

"Some warm weather."

"I'll try. How are your boots?" She lifts a foot up. "Damn, those feet are tiny. I'm not sure they even make boots that small."

"What are you going to do if someone figures it out?" It's rather a question of when, but she's being polite.

"Haven't thought it through yet."

"You'll lose everything."

"I know."

The house and all it's belongings will go to auction, including her. Same with the forge. The Colonel will be replaced as schoolteacher and the town will move on. They would rather ignore the past and present an idyllic front to the world, even though the house she's in doesn't have the bloodiest history by far. She grew up on the stories of the town's dark underbelly. Of course, they had been exaggerated. Bodies may have been used as stuffing for an armchair, but the hands didn't reach through to grab victims.

Things quieted down during the war, oddly enough. Maybe people were too hungry and tired to do much more than squabble over food. "You might even end up someone's furniture piece."

"What?" Not having grown up there, he doesn't make the connection.

"People go missing in this town, and they're guaranteed to be dead and hidden away."

"Really? Why do people stay here afterwards?"

"They usually do the killing. But it's not too often. There's only been one double murder since I was born."

He seems, of all things, excited. "So we could be living in a murder home? With bodies under the floorboards? We could look."

"Are you stupid? What if something happens? For all we know, ghosts are real and then we'd be in a mess of trouble."

"I thought they were restless because they were hidden."

"Maybe, but things are still now and I don't want to take any chances."

"Oh, come on." He bounces in his seat. "Was anyone murdered here?"

"Just some newborns. Their mother did it." She points to the east side of the house. "They're buried out there."

"And people thought _my_ mother was strange." Whatever that means. "Would you be sold if Ben and I were murdered?"

"Yes."

He nods to himself. "You know, you're welcome to live on the run with us."

"That doesn't sound too good."

"No. Would you rather be here?"

She wouldn't. However dangerous it might be on the road, she'd be safer with them than on her own here. It is inevitable that one day, they will be caught. She just wishes that she didn't think it will be soon.


	15. Chapter 15

The trip to the city goes more quickly with Caleb. He keeps them moving at a steady pace, whereas Benjamin would dread going. "What the hell is it that you have to do, anyway?"

"Nothing much, now that the government is taking a more stable shape. Almost everything has been sorted. You wouldn't believe the piles of maps and messages to go through."

"Why not burn it?"

"Oh, we are. We just have orders to sort it first."

"Figures, don't it."

"It's mostly formalities. We'll hand in the last of the saved pieces and be home free."

Having wasted most of his time knowing that all but a handful of papers were useless, Benjamin is impatient to finish the job. He and Caleb part ways in the city. he goes to the set of impromptu offices. Caleb picks a direction and takes off. Chances are, he knows some whalers here to sell their catch.

The house where he's been working is...filled with furniture? In a small side room there is one other man tossing papers into a fire and scribbling on another. Otherwise, there's people coming and going, bringing items in. The house has been sold before it was vacated.

With two of them, they leave the house in half an hour. Benjamin drops the scribblings off at another location and that's the end. He didn't need to make the trip. There's no way he'll find Caleb right now, so he'll have to wait until dinner when they agreed to meet back at the inn. That gives him a good six hours to himself. Again.

He should actually do something with his time, but he instead buys a treat from a vendor then returns to the inn. He slips his boots off and lies back on the bed, which does little to help his sore back. He dozes on and off, sometimes looking through the small window. There's a large billow of smoke coming from the south, bigger than those put off by the chimneys. It may be a shipyard. Sounds like Caleb's kind of place.

The noise of the other tenants returning for dinner wakes him up from a short nap. He tries to rub the imprint of his sleeve off the side of his face when he gets up. It fades within a few minutes, so he doesn't look _as_ ridiculous. The kitchen noise is filtering up through the floors. This isn't the first place he's stayed since then he was referred to a few other stays by people in town.

Caleb's wiping soot off his face at a table when Benjamin finds him. Curiously, nothing else on him is dirty.

"Did you try to breathe ash?"

"Nah. Fell for a prank." He digs at his eyes with the rag. "The city's doing better. Certainly smells like it."

"Some of the wastewater flows into the ponds." Caleb's food arrives and Benjamin orders. "We've got the rest of the evening now. It took me an hour to work. We could have left for Setauket today."

"Nice of them to bring you out here for that."

"I can see your food when you do that."

Caleb sticks his tongue out. "There's lots to do here. We could even find a Molly House."

"There are people here," it's a hiss between his teeth. None of their table neighbors have looked up from their meals, thankfully. "We're not going."

"Relax, Tallboy. Besides, neither of us wears petticoats. They might find us just as strange." Caleb spoons another mouthful. "Is there anything you _do_ want to do?"

He isn't sure. He hasn't thought about what the city has put on since the war ended. Benjamin wants to do something with Caleb, who would fall asleep at a concert or play. Likewise, he isn't up for a night of drinking or illegal fight matches. "I don't think our ideal plans would match."

"You want to see some screeching opera, don't you?" Caleb swallows his mouthful. "All right."

"Caleb, we don't have the tickets, or for that matter, the right clothes."

"Let's finish this and we'll find something."

He shovels the last of his meal into his mouth and talks about catching up with some old whaling friends in the harbor as Benjamin finishes his. Finding one of the venues is up to Benjamin. Caleb has been in the same streets, but never bothered to pay attention to what was there. The first theatre is dark. Nothing playing tonight. The second has lights on, but there's two men in usher uniforms smoking on the front steps. Caleb leads them back a block until they find a clear alley. It takes some turns and a little backtracking, but they find the building again. Unlike at the front entrance, Benjamin can hear the music, faintly.

"Caleb, we can't break in. They're going to catch us."

He merely looks at Benjamin and pulls the door open with one hand. It wasn't even locked. There's no one in the back room they enter, just some overcoats and an umbrella leaning in one corner. Caleb opens the next door without any trouble and peers down either end of a hallway.

"They might lead to the same place."

"They might." Benjamin points to the right. "Let's go this way."

They turn the corner as a stagehand exits into the hallway. The three of them pause for a moment, then Caleb smiles and digs a hand into his pocket.

"How much to see the rest of it?"

"Ten."

Caleb pulls his fist out and bounces some coins in his palm. "I have six."

"Eight."

"Seven and," he pulls a flat bottle out from inside his coat, "the rest of this."

He hands the bottle over. The man takes a mouthful of the alcohol and nods. "All right, then. Follow me."

They're led through a couple turns, and Benjamin can hear the music better. The last door opens to a dark room, and the man points to a ladder. Caleb hands him the coins and waits while he counts them in the light from the doorway. He leaves and they're left blind.

"You want to go first or shall I?" The ladder rings as Caleb raps his knuckles against it."

"You. I have a feeling you know where to go once we get to the top."

It's a little difficult climbing in the dark. His eyes can make out the general shape of the ladder, but haven't adjusted for depth.  Twice his hands go through air and he nearly knocks his teeth in. Caleb warns him when they reach the top.

Benjamin can see that a curtain is blocking the light. A glow is peering over the top and through a small gap. When he stands on the scaffolding, he can see some of the faces in the crowd. They're towards the very back of the stage. It's easy to find their way up to the front. the scaffolding is lighted here. They take a seat to the side instead of on the walkway directly above the orchestra. The last thing they need is for a musician to glance up and see four feet dangling above him.

Their seats are cold and stiff, but Benjamin is very happy with them. he's only been to see a two other concerts, and he never had very good seats. They've caught the last bit of the performance. People in the crowd are adjusting their legs as they try go stay comfortable. Caleb leans into him for the most of it, less enthused with the performance. Surprisingly, he stays awake the entire time. Benjamin himself feels sleepy with the warmth from the candles billowing up and a full stomach.

He wishes that so many others could be alive to see this world. Samuel, Nathan, his mother.  He tries to carry pieces of who they were with him, so it's as if they get to enjoy what they helped make possible. The love he has for all of them keeps them with him, and he does what he can to make sure the things they cared about aren't forgotten. He tries to do this every day, but for this short amount of time he has in this enclave, he's just himself with Caleb. A reprieve of carrying the dead.

The giddy feeling of having spend a nice evening with his husband carries him into the next day, when they fetch the horses and set off for Long Island. The road is busier than it used to be, now that farms and businesses have come back to life. Still, they make Setauket in good time.

Their first stop is to see Benjamin's father. However, he isn't home. Benjamin stands on the small porch for some time, knocking and then walking around the back of the house. The windows and doors are closed up tight. He wishes his father had told him that we would be away on a trip. They don't exactly have the large family they used to. Without his mother around, Benjamin has tried to help his father keep track of everyone, and keep track of him at the same time. In the years to come, he'll start to show more of the effects of aging.

Caleb suggest they drop in on Anna first, should his father come looking. Whitehall isn't exactly a place he would want to be. He is right, so they walk the horses up to the new house. Selah's new appointment as a senator should be helping them save up for something roomier, but for now they've bought a small home with past savings and Anna's reimbursement from the army.

"Aw, hell."

Benjamin looks over his shoulder as he gets his foot out of the stirrup. Anna has come out to greet them and she is quite a bit larger. A whole other person larger. "Shouldn't you be off your feet? You must be ready to give birth."

"I've got another couple of weeks." She gets down the last step. "Besides, the sooner I can get this thing out the sooner I can get a full nights sleep."

She hugs both of them in turn. When her stomach presses against him, Benjamin worries that he's hugging her too hard. Caleb wraps and squeezes her about the shoulders and rocks her from side to side. Benjamin has never seen a pregnant woman other than his mother. it's the strangest thing he's witnessed. When Caleb lets her go to pat her stomach, a wave pokes through her flesh and the fabric of her dress. She grimaces and adjusts her stance, but looks more annoyed than in pain.

"Come on inside, then. I told Selah I'd only be a minute."

It takes her longer to get up the stairs than it did coming down. Benjamin is afraid she'll tip over and they'll have to break her fall. Selah greets both of them, looking more exhausted than Anna. He apologizes with a hoarse voice that he can't sit and talk with them, then shuffles back into what must be the bedroom. They were never very good friends, but Benjamin is glad he's gotten back into everyday life. There is one thing bothering him, though.

"Anna, I have a rather rude question." Rude, and really none of his business, but he would prefer no more surprises should they visit again. "You and Abe had a tumultuous relationship, but still seemed to care for each other. With Major Hewlett still in England, and-"

"It's Selah's." She spoons some sugar into her tea. "And I don't mind. I was the one having an affair with a married man. More than once."

"You were married too." He'll not let her take all the blame.

"Right. Abe and I care about each other, yes, but we no longer love each other. At least I don't. We've changed, and are no longer a good match. Selah and I are friends, and I'd like to make an effort at being a good companion. Maybe one day we could be more. We can at least be parents."

"And you'll be great at it." Caleb slides an entire biscuit into his mouth.

"Thank you. But that's all about me. What have you two been up to?"

"Ben's working as a schoolmaster. I've taken up a forge next door. The village is throwing unmarried girls at him, and we just wed ourselves."

Benjamin coughs on a mouthful and kicks Caleb under the table. Or tries to.

"I was wondering about you two." Anna puts her hands on her hips. "Always thought it'd be rude to say something, and now I find out you got married and didn't invite me!"

"Spur of the moment, really. Besides, you might not have fit thorough the window like this."

Anna looks thoroughly confused, so Benjamin gives her a quick summary of their midnight excursion. She disapproves with their breaking in, as if that was the most scandalous part of the story. Anna has a good heart, perhaps the best of all of them. If more people like her were in charge, then maybe they would never see another war.

"Do you have names picked out?"

"We've been arguing over it. Too many to pick from and too many dead to be named after." Parents and brother and sisters and friends. All because the crown couldn't let them go.

"We actually hoped to see my father while we were here. He wasn't home when we arrived."

"No. I saw him on his way out of town yesterday. Do you need to stay the night?"

"No, that's not necessary." Where would she put them? "We'll just visit Abe and go home."

"That would be late, even with a ferry."

"I like to think we can stay out late if we wish to."

Anna swats his arm. "Besides, Mary said Abe's in the city for the rest of the week."

"Mary?"

"She was my cousin before she was Abe's wife." Which is true, but that didn't exactly help five years ago. "She's the only one in that house I can sit and talk with anyway. She visited me to see how I was coming along with the baby."

"I'm a bit relieved." Caleb leans back in his chair. "Love the bastard, but I don't know if I could listen to him talk."

" _Caleb_." Benjamin understands, but wouldn't have said that.

"Stop bickering. Drink your tea while I complain about being pregnant. For instance, I'm not allowed to let other people see me. " She piles food onto her plate. Anna's confidence in herself grew during the war, and keeps doing so. "Don't tell anyone you were exposed to my risque girth."

They spend quite a while there. Selah comes in at one point to soak a cloth in cool water, and Anna makes him take a cup of tea with him. He's different than he used to be. Selah was never very warm, and his time on the Jersey did nothing to help that. When he look at Anna, though, there's something there. Benjamin and Caleb had given him the story about Anna's involvement with the ring after she jumped the boat. He said he would rather she stayed with him, but was willing to accept that she knew what she was getting into. If she got in deep enough as was found out, she could be hanged. Selah spent the remainder of the war with no idea what kind of danger Anna might be in, but keeping his distance.

"Did Mary ever know about you and Abe?"

"Yes. The fact that she still speaks to me when she doesn't have to proves she's a better woman than any of us."

"Has she ever accused you of carrying on with it?"

Anna shakes her head. "Honestly, I think I get along with her better than she does with him. Mary once spoke about marriage as a mode for children, but she's hasn't hand any more." She grimaces. "Though, I can understand not wanting to do this too many times. Does anyone else know about you two?"

"The woman who came with the house. I don't think she'll say anything, but Caleb knows her better than I do."

"She doesn't want to." Caleb shakes his head. "Believe it or not, she thinks she was lucky to wind up with us."

"I have a hard time believing anyone would think cleaning up after you as lucky."

Caleb tickles Anna's side as revenge. "You'll have to visit and see for yourself."

"We will. When Selah's well again and we can somewhat manage the baby. But you have to get there first." She points to the afternoon sun. "If you leave now, you can make it to the city at a reasonable hour."

"You're right." Benjamin folds his napkin. "We'll write to you soon, if you promise to send word about the little one."

"I can do that." She levers herself up from the chair and walks them to the door. "Be safe, you two. I want everything as it should be next time I see you." Caleb teases her about acting like their mother and narrowly avoids her fingers aiming to pinch him. She waits on the top step as they mount the horses, and waves at they head back up the hill.

The town has changed. Benjamin doubts Anna and Selah will stay there much longer. They made sacrifices for these people and all they did was call him a traitor and her a whore. Who knows what they would call he or Caleb. But they'll all be away someday, except for Abe. If Mary is anything like Anna says, she'll keep him in line. It's what they need. For some time, Benjamin thought Abe would go rogue and do hell knows what. He made plans that, if discovered, put everyone in the ring at risk. Benjamin and Caleb would have been fine in the army, but Anna was already on shaky ground and Abigail was neck deep in loyalists and British soldiers in New York. Either of them faced jail time, or for Abigail, most likely death. Except Abe didn't care about anyone else. Maybe not even his son, who he was supposedly doing it for.

Caleb calls him out of his thinking. They're in the woods now, and the droplets melting from the trees pop as they fall on the brim of Caleb's hat. The sun is trying with all its might to melt the snow and ice. It's drifting through the skeletons of the trees while Benjamin and Caleb wander the horses around messy puddles.

"He's fine, you know."

"What?" He wasn't paying attention if Caleb had been going on about something.

"Your father. He's all right."

"Oh. Actually, it hadn't crossed my mind since we left Anna's." It really hadn't, even if it should have. He'd mostly mused on the things they'd talked over and the night's rest ahead of them. He has no idea what made his father leave or where he's gone. "Maybe he's going to visit my cousin. They live a day or two away."

"You should send him a letter next time, so he's around when you visit."

"I should." The air is getting colder as the afternoon wears on. "I hope you don't have any plans for when we get into the city."

"No. I just want to find a place to sleep and then be on our way in the morning. If we stay up late enough, we could make it past."

"Yes, but think we'd find an inn that close?" he pauses. "I'm not sleeping on the ground. I spent more than enough time with a tree root in my side or on that damn cot."

"You think I would suggest it?" Caleb puts a hand on his own back, as if it still hurt from the mobile camp.

"Wouldn't you?"

"...I suppose."

Benjamin sighs and tilts his head back. He may never understand why Caleb still loves the outdoors enough to sleep in them. A hand rubs at the back of his head as Caleb leans between them.

"I would much rather keep riding through the night until we made it home, but that's pushing it, isn't it?"

"It's possible. As long as the horses can take it." He suppresses a yawn. "I think we can take it too."

"Really?" Caleb squints up at the sky. "That'd be another ten, eleven hours. The horses  will be fine at this pace, but its a long time to ride."

"All right. How about we stop twice for a stretch? We can walk with the horses when we get stuck around the city." He knows they'll be stopped by a few checkpoints, being two men traveling late at night with no discernible luggage. "We'll be tired as hell when we arrive, but it's not as if we'll have to get up early." Caleb doesn't want to stay in the city, as he's mentioned several times in the past, and Benjamin would rather not spend another night in a strange bed. Besides, he can't make Caleb stay in the city again, especially when he gave up part of his evening to see a concert.

"As long as you're not _too_ much of a grump when we get there."

" _I'm_ the grump?"

"Yeah, who else?" Caleb laughs and tugs on his braid.

Neither of them is quite as merry at their fist stop. At the second, Benjamin dozes off with his head in Caleb's neck. He wakes up with a stiff back but for a moment considers that maybe sleeping on the ground isn't such a terrible idea. Caleb pulls him up and gets him on top of the horse. It's the earliest hours of the morning now. The sun may not even rise by the time they reach the house.

"Winter shouldn't be so dark." He can vaguely make out Caleb's form beside him. "It really isn't making any friends this way."

"I think they might mind the cold more, Benny-boy."

"That isn't too great either."

"It's time to go." Caleb swings his leg over the saddle. "The sooner we get home, the sooner you stop this."

"I'm not a grump."

"At this point, we both are."

Physically, Caleb didn't show tiredness as easily as Benjamin. For one, his hair and general level of grime on his face obscured the dark circles under his eyes. They stuck out on Benjamin's pale complexion. But Caleb's posture would change. He usually sat with his elbows on his knees or against a table. When he'd been awake long enough, his body would list to the side and begin to slouch down on itself. Benjamin had to rely on seeing this when asking Caleb to make another run out of camp.

Benjamin tries not to be too annoying the last few hours. Caleb gave him the option of breaking it into two legs and he declined. He regrets it now, but he can't fix that.

The sky is dark the entire way home. Benjamin doesn't pay much attention to anything. He's conscious, but that's about it. He doesn't realize they're approaching the house until Caleb reaches out to grip his bridle. Benjamin can't remember most of the last hour. He should get some sleep. Caleb should too, based on how he dismounts. The horse itself could have been more graceful.

Rachel is awake when they get in the house. She comes out from the back with some firewood. Benjamin, who's leaning against Caleb with an arm around his middle, pays no mind. Caleb does.

"Who're you building the fires for?"

She settles the wood on her hip. "I couldn't just deny him entry, even if I couldn't confirm who he was."

"Who?" Benjamin tries to make a list of men who would have reason to visit. "Who's in the house?"

"Your father, sir."

* * *

 Caleb can tell Ben isn't handling it well. He's lost control of this situation, which isn't a good sign based on previous years. There's nothing incriminating in the house unless one went through the rooms upstairs. But they cannot account for what may have been said in town. He waits for Ben to make a plan, but he's not operating at his best.

"Rachel, make up another guest room. Ben visited Setauket, which gave me the idea to do the same. He offered to let me stay the night, seeing as we arrived back so late. I'll eat breakfast and then head back to my flat above the smithy."

She nods once and disappears into the sitting room. Things are under control here. It's what happens outside that's worrying.

"Ben. Anything of mine that's laying out in our room, you put in the wardrobe. Clear of my bed table. I'll check down here before I go up, while Rachel gets the room ready." He steers Ben towards the stairs. "We'll figure out the rest in the morning."

"Caleb." Ben takes a shaky breath. "Whatever he may say to you, don't take it to heart."

"I'd be more worried about what he'll say to you. Your father and I haven't quite gotten along since I sent a boot flying through the front window." It had been purely an accident, but he hadn't helped himself much. The then-Reverend Tallmadge had gotten his version of angry. He wasn't one to shout and cause dramatics, but he made sure Caleb remembered the window every time they crossed paths. He's glad Ben never picked up that trait.

A few things of his are lying around. He stuffs what he can into his pockets and balances the rest in his arms, along with the apple tree seedlings, which are beginning to form a healthy brown color. When the frost passes, he'll be able to transfer them to the soil. For tonight, they'll be bunking with him.

Rachel meets him on the stairs and sneaks him and some of his clothes into the room. He pushes her off to bed, seeing as she has to be up in two hours. The fire needs to be fed a bit more, and his things put away. Most of them can be hidden in the dresser. The seedlings go behind the curtains. Once he has the fire built up, he crawls in the bed and tries to get used to it for the four hours he has. When he has slept alone lately, its been in his and Ben's bed. He could deal with one change, but not both. Despite the exhaustion, he cannot sleep for half the time. With any luck, Ben is faring better in their room. One of them needs to be coherent at the breakfast table.

He sleeps in short increments, waking to find the sun climbing progressively higher. He can tell Ben that everything will be fine if this father knows, but there's not surety in it. Ben needs his father to be happy with him, having put the weight of being his son on his shoulders. Now the only living child to keep in regular contact, Ben had rather foolishly made himself Chief Morale Officer of their dwindling family. Caleb doesn't see the reverend staying upset with Ben for very long should he disapprove. He didn't seem to have the fight in him that he used to. There's no way he'd expect Ben to do everything he's trying either. Ben, in his eternal wisdom, hasn't figured this out.

As against Ben joining the army as Caleb was, his father made that protest minuscule. The man wasn't exactly a pacifist, but he'd abhorred war. Ben sent several letters that went unanswered after a rather horrendous face-to-face talk. Then Samuel was captured. The worry and fear built a bridge, and that took the sting away. Except, Samuel never made it off that ship.

There was no argument after Setauket. Ben was a dragoon and there was nothing his father could do about it. There may have been some sort of discussion, but Ben didn't mention it. He and Caleb weren't speaking, and then things moved on and Caleb never bothered to ask. Maybe he should have.

The house creaks as Rachel gets around to light the downstairs fires. The sun has been up, so it won't be long before he should think about getting up. The next time he looks out the window, two hours have gone by. he's dozed for a bit without feeling any sort of rested. Rachel knocks on his door just after, so she must have roused him.

"The Colonel is dressing, if you want to join them. It's a late meal."

"Thanks." He didn't bother to undress completely, so he shoves his boots on and buttons up his waistcoat. This isn't exactly a formal occasion.

Ben won't want to be alone if Armageddon is a about to happen, so Caleb plans to get downstairs quickly as he can without actually making it known. His path to sneak around is derailed by Ben, who's waiting at the top of the staircase.

"I thought I'd wait a bit. If I'm going to get a cold shoulder for the rest of my life, I might as well take my time."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Tallboy. It doesn't suit you."

The table is set, and Rachel's put out a variety of dishes. Ben's father has a plate that he's working on. He smiles when he sees his son. "I wondered if I would depart without seeing you."

"I doubt you would let me. As it happens, I was away for a few extra days to visit you." Ben gestures to Caleb. "Caleb met me in New York and we visited home."

Caleb wants to kick Ben for throwing them at the first hurdle so quickly. He hasn't even gotten a mouthful of food yet. Tallmadge Sr. doesn't make any indication that he's heard something out of sorts. They can assume, then, that this is what he believes to be true. It is true, in part.

"Worked out in the end, though", he mumbles out around some beans. "And it must be nice to have a visitor other than me."

"I saw the schoolhouse while I was in town. How large is the class?"

"About two dozen on a good day." Ben relaxes in the shoulders. "I do miss teaching in Setauket, but the children here work hard and I'm proud of them. They've accomplished quite a bit."

"So they said. A couple of your pupils spoke to me while I asked for directions. They'll be excited to have you back." He pauses for a drink of water. "The people here think highly of you. Particularly  that you're letting out one of your spare rooms to Mr. Brewster. You'll be glad to know I did not take the bait, if that was the purpose."

Well, looks like no one is taking their time today.

Ben's head whips up from his plate. Already, Caleb is thinking through a plan. They can buy a boat with some of the money they have saved. Or they can steal one and buy food later on. It should be big enough for the three of them and a bag each, though neither he nor Rachel have much that's too important to part with. From there, they can head north to Canada or down the coast. The weather would be better in Virginia, but Canada would be best for Rachel. If they were to become separated or he and Ben is some sort of trouble, she would be free.

Either way, once they reach a point he can build a small caravan. The wheels will take the most time, but if they need them enough he can haggle some used ones. With that and a horse or an ox, they can live on the road. Become a three person carnival and tour the country. Ben could pick up some skill like juggling. He'd be good at juggling.

"Perhaps I should wait outside." He needs a head start. "Call if there's a fist fight."

He nearly runs Rachel down in the hallway. "You've only been in there a few minutes. What happened?"

"He already knows, so I'm going to grab what we'd need to live as nomads. How partial are you to your pillow?"

"All I need is a blanket. I _can_ come with you?"

"I planned on it." He elbows the front door open. "Ben and I would starve on our own, and you'd be killed, so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is awkwardly written, but I don't really know how I'd like to rewrite it. I needed something to get the boys out of the house and back to Seatauket. Things should be better in the next few chapters.


	16. Chapter 16

Benjamin's only plan is to vehemently deny what his father implied and try to keep up some charade. It fails before he opens his mouth.

"There isn't a trap door he's going to disappear down, is there?" His father sets his napkin on the table and turns his chair askew. "Benjamin, it's not as if this is new to me."

"But that doesn't mean it should be in your own family." Benjamin swallows, his throat tight. "Especially now that you've only two sons, neither of whom is quite normal."

"Though we don't understand William, I don't think he'd appreciate that." His father had often seemed at a loss with William, who would sit quietly in his room one minute and be on the roof, peering over the edge the next. Benjamin used to wonder if his brother was a ghost, with the way he disappeared around anyone but the family and a few friends. As they grew he figured out that William just didn't like being around people, so he avoided them when he could. "Though I do agree that this isn't _normal_."

"You know that if I could be different, I would be."

"Yes. Years ago, maybe I would have disagreed. But we've lost too much for me to judge something you did not choose."

"How long have you known? You've never said anything." Thank goodness he didn't. Benjamin couldn't have taken it.

"A few years ago. Looking back, I could have noticed when you were young. You never had the interest in girls the way your brothers did. I thought it was simply overshadowed by your studies." He shakes his head at his own actions. "It' better that I didn't know then."

"We were all different then. I wouldn't have blamed you for disowning me."

"That's no excuse. And I may have done worse." Benjamin feels acid bubble in his throat. "I was so connected to the church, and I felt that God could fix anything. I prayed for your mother to get better, and for a time she did. Had I known, I would have done everything I could to change you. And when that did not work, _then_ I would have disowned you."

As frightening as that is, Benjamin tries to comfort his father. "You would have tried because you love me, and wanted me to stay in this family."

"Perhaps. Or I tried to live as close to scripture as possible." The fine lines that have been around his father's eyes since he can remember are deep now, casting thin shadows over each other. "After my war, I was a mess. But the church helped. It got me back into real life. I started sleeping again, and I put on a healthy weight. With my body healing, I could fix my mind. I owe my sanity to God. I thought He made everything perfect, and we were the ones responsible for wrongs."

"He wants us to become stronger."

"He does. And that's why He made you this way." He grasps Benjamin's hand. "I love you and your brothers, but back then I also loved you for who I thought you should be. After your mother passed, some of that changed. But even then, I ignored you all."

"Pa, you were grieving. We knew how to take care of ourselves." For over a year, his father had been near invalid. "And maybe you wouldn't have excused this, but I think you would have stood by us when it mattered."

"You give me more credit than is due."

Benjamin isn't sure what to say to that, so he stares at the wood of the table for a moment. "You're not going to disown me, then?"

"No, Benjamin."

"Well, either way, I'm sorry I've disappointed you. It's not fair, that you get me instead of Samuel."

His father looks horrified and grips his wrist. "Benjamin." He rubs the other hand across his face. "As much as I miss Samuel and want him here with us, I couldn't trade you for him. Neither one of you was worth more to me. I wouldn't even be deserving of fatherhood if I though that way.

Further more, you are not and never have been a disappointment to me. I have no right to judge any man. I'm proud of you and what you do. Who you are, I can neither approve nor disapprove of."

"I appreciate you trying to make me believe that, but I know that it bothers you." He keeps talking over his father. "And thank you for not doing anything about it. I was a bit worried I'd need an escape plan to get out of the village."

His father nods, but won't be deterred. "You should know that you don't have to make up for Samuel not being here."

"I could, though. I did for awhile. But now the war's over. I don't want him to have died and what he could have accomplished go to waste."

"He's dead, and we can't make the world turn as if he were still in it."

Benjamin strangles through a laugh. "When the war was close to the end, I was making these lists in my head of what Samuel would have wanted for the new nation. It used to keep me up nights, and in the mornings Caleb would tell me to let the dead rest, and Samuel wouldn't appreciate being drug up from his grave." He frowns. "He's probably got three routes mapped out in his head already. Should I get him, or would you like a few more minutes?"

"Go, go. We'll talk more about this later." His father begins eating again. "And tell him that he still owes some pay to get that window fixed."

"That's neither true nor kind."

He finds Caleb climbing up the outside of the house, to get in one of the second story windows. He comes back down at Benjamin's urging that he use the front door as usual. Rachel is waiting just inside, and pulls various items out of Caleb's pockets. Several kitchen knives are inside a seam.

"I thought we might need them."

"Well, I needed them five minutes ago." She shakes his coat once, thereby shaking him. Nothing else makes noise in his pockets. "Now, go eat."

"You weren't always this mean," he calls after her. "Am I going to die in that dining room, Benny?"

"If you keep being dramatic." He brushes some crumbles of leaves left from the past fall off of Caleb. He must have scurried up a tree. "He's not happy, but we're not homeless either."

"So _you're_ not going to die. That has no say on what he'll do to me. I don't have the protection of being family."

"It's not as if he'll actually kill you." Benjamin had enough lectures on pacifism as a boy to know.

"Maybe not. He could still do some damage if he wanted."

Benjamin is aware of this. He spent a few minutes standing by himself in the hall to come up with how Caleb could still get hurt in this. The most obvious option would be to confirm the rumor (hopefully still a singular rumor) as only pertaining to him. That Benjamin had housed him out of some sense of loyalty, selflessness, or ignorance. Benjamin would keep his home and position, while Caleb would bear the brunt of any backlash. When they first arrived, he didn't think it would be too bad. That was until Caleb shared some stories he heard through Rachel.

Benjamin has been more critical since then. Nothing is prevalent in the children, but their parents like things just so. He can only get half the town's history and all his questions at dinners are shot down, no matter how delicately he phrases them. It's made him consider moving house. The gossip was unbearable in Setauket, but at least the people weren't operating under delusion. Here, he's more likely to believe the children's ghost stories than what his neighbors have been telling him. To cover up Caleb, they'd at least make him leave.

"Just because you two don't gt along doesn't mean he wishes you harm." And it doesn't. "Three's nothing to do about it now, so let's eat."

Caleb looks about ready to claw through a wall when he's sat down. Benjamin knocks a knee against his and motions to the food. "There's no way I can eat all this. Dig in."

"I haven't done anything to it, if that's what you're thinking." His father has finished eating, and Rachel's poured him a cup of coffee.

"Oh, I know that." Caleb pulls his fists out of his pockets. "I'm more worried about what you'd do to me while I'm alive."

Benjamin's father gives Caleb a stony look. "I may think you troublesome and dangerously impulsive, but I don't wish to see you suffer."

" _Tiresome?_ " Apparently no longer concerned for his well being, Caleb prepares to start something. Benjamin stares wearily at his food, now stuck in a disagreement with two people as stubborn as he is. "I haven't spent enough time around you to be tiresome."

"Which rather speaks for your ability in the area. Besides, I heard enough of your shenanigans from Benjamin."

Caleb grins and leans over to Benjamin. "Is that so? Was I your favorite topic at the Tallmadge dinner table?"

"Which I now regret."

"Don't be embarrassed." Caleb returns to his seat. "Sometimes I'd write home about you."

"Caleb, they probably saw me more than you did."

"It's what I wanted to share. Did you do the same?"

"Only during the war." Benjamin glares at his father, who continues. "I have to say, it was nice to finally get a letter from my son only to read about _you_."

Caleb's dimples deepen with his smile.

"Don't get too excited. We weren't on good terms." That was his own fault.

Caleb suddenly looks like a kicked puppy and Benjamin thinks he should have lied. "Right." He piles the rest of the eggs onto his plate. "So, ah..."

"You had a falling out?"

"Of sorts." Benjamin doesn't want to explain this to his father, of all people. "We've talked through the misunderstandings and each apologized. Thus, why the letters stopped being all about him."

"It's the small mercies."

"If you don't mind my asking, who brought up our living here to you?" Caleb's cleared his plate and reaches to refill his glass.

"The man who mentioned you was named Wooley, though his wife and those they were walking with seemed very interested."

Benjamin huffs. "Of course they are. They run businesses, but don't actually work them. They need something to occupy their time."

"I see that every town seems to have that type of person. They made no mention of alerting the authorities. I suspect it would be easier to deal with them locally."

"It's a strange group." He wonders how many other things he's going to look back on and find strange. "I've had dinner with most of the families here. It feels a bit like they want to make life into a charade."

"How so?"

"They' rather be a monster masquerading as an angel than accept faults and learn to live with them. There's a brief history of murder in the town, which isn't unusual. Expect instead of preferring not to talk about it, they prefer to pretend it doesn't exist."

"That being your worry should they want you erased?"

Caleb raises his eyebrows. "For all we know, someone could be buried in the town square and the culprit walking around right now. They could all be liars and murderers. "

"While that is a bit extreme," Benjamin rolls his eyes, _bodies buried in town_ , "he's not wrong. Though, I don't think either of us is in a position to judge them for lying."

"Maybe not. But don't forget," his father slides his chair back, "they're lying purely for vanity. Now, I'm going to take a walk around. You've got a decent sized plot of land. Both of you look like you can use some rest. I'll let you know when I return."

It's only polite for Benjamin to insist that he walk too. But the mere thought of sleep makes his eyes start to close. He follows Caleb, who pretends to find a frame on the wall interesting enough to block the way. It would have perhaps been funnier if Benjamin hadn't lied awake terrified for those few hours in the morning.

" _MOVE."_ He tries to push Caleb forward, which only gets him a laugh and a hand on his ass as Caleb picks him up. "Fine. Now lets go."

He gets Caleb in the room and falls forward once he's at the bed. In the perfect spot to his his shoulder on the headboard. "Ouch." Caleb rolls across him to avoid having to walk around to the other side. Neither of them have taken their boots off, which Rachel will hate. Caleb is out on his back, limbs spread. Benjamin shifts further down the bed to press his face into an arm-.

Rachel is shaking Caleb, who's grumbling wakes up Benjamin. "It's been four hours. And quit your cursing. It's not even creative."

"It is, and I'll fight you about it. Tomorrow." Caleb's fingers thread through the hair on Benjamin's scalp. "We should put some serious thought into joining a traveling show."

"I'll be back in five minutes," Rachel shouts before she shuts the door.

"Can't do anything much in five minutes." It'll take him at least ten to sit up.

"Is that a challenge?" Caleb hooks him closer. "Because if I try hard enough..."

"That will only guarantee Rachel walks in and is stricken blind. Or worse, my father walks in."

Caleb still crawls over so he's half on top of him. "Fine. But I do want to time myself sometime." He kisses the back of Benjamin's neck and sits up. "What do you think is for luncheon?"

"I told you to eat more."

"What if I want to keep my figure?"

"Good luck. One of the recruits once thought you were a grizzly coming through the overgrowth to attack us."

"Good. I was probably trying to scare him." Caleb pulls Benjamin to the end of the bed by his ankles, until his legs hang over the edge. "Need me to help you sit up?"

"No." He pushes up from his elbows and leans forward to grasp the fabric of Caleb's waistcoat. "I think I'm just now seeing the virtue in being lazy."

Caleb hums and bend to gently kiss the corner of Benjamin's eye, where he can feel him brush up against his eyelashes. He's not sure when or where Caleb learned to be this tender, but he's appreciative of whomever it was. "You can sleep more without any great catastrophe."

"And the small catastrophes?" He rolls his head in against Caleb's, resting his forehead against his chin. "I'll sleep later. I don't know when I'll get to see him again."

"That wasn't five minutes."

Benjamin glances over to the door, where Rachel's waiting with an armful of laundry.

"Too bad. I'm setting a third plate?"

"Yes." He uses Caleb's arm to pull himself up. "Is there enough food?"

"Yes, sir." She pointedly waits until they've gotten out into the hall before making quick work of changing the mud soiled sheets.

* * *

 "I'm not going to hide you in here." She tosses a small lump of butter in a pan, then brandishes the knife. "There's too much to do, with those ass-hats inviting themselves to dinner."

"You know, this is the first time I've seen you this angry. I think I like it." Caleb dodges the fat trimmings Rachel throws at him. "I need to pretend I'm not here all the time. So right now, I'm walking out back."

"And here I was thinking you'd put this entire thing in jeopardy."

"Ben would have rather turned them down, but he's too nice. There was apparently some talk about seeing the house since it changed hands and having a get together in honor of his father being in town. Boy cracked under pressure."

Rachel starts counting on her fingers. "So if they're bringing their unwed daughters, that brings it up to nine?"

Caleb shakes his head. "Ten. The second Nichols daughter is of age."

"And prime for the market." She slaps more meat in the pan. "Those three won't eat too much, so there should be enough to feed everyone."

"When will you eat?"

"When you've all moved on to after dinner drinks."

"Drinks? How long are these people planning to stay?"

"It's something they do. There's no shame in saying you're tired from the road and leaving early."

"Except I live here."

The kitchen gets warm quickly, even with Rachel opening the window. Caleb's in the closest think to acceptable dress, and Ben has forced a comb through his hair. That was a struggle itself, considering how Caleb's hair likes to attach itself to everything. The guests will be trespassing soon, so Ben and his father are in the sitting room to greet them. Rachel can't cook and keep answering the door.

"If you overhear anything alarming tonight, you'll tell us?" Caleb isn't about to rule anyone out. "There's something going around."

"Idiots. Why didn't you just buy the next land plot over?"

"Didn't have the money. My pension's good, but not enough for that."

"They gave the Colonel this for free."

"Never said it made sense."

She gives him some of the food to graze on while he waits. There's flour floating in the air, from where it's been blown around since breakfast. The house is still quiet, so he can hear the wood settling and the chickens out in the yard. It could be any other day if he could just stay in here. But any long term guest should join the host and party for dinner. It's only fucking polite.

"The last party I went to was a meal of liquor and one woman refused to put her top back on." There's a loud slap as Rachel hits him with a towel. "It wasn't like we hid it from her. She kept insisting she was more comfortable  without it." Most of them had stripped to the waist. It had been the beginning of August, and the humidity made everything sticky. Caleb himself was down to a pair of trousers, and woke up the next morning to find that he'd cut his foot open at some point, and had decided to cauterize it. Not the brightest idea, but at least he hadn't gotten an infection.

"Don't expect the same tonight."

"Well, if they offered."

"Do you want their fathers to castrate you?"

There's a knock on the front door, a bad omen in Caleb had a say. "Can I stay until I finish this?" He holds up the rest of his toast and Rachel nods. He can't hear what's being said, but there's the greetings and some forced joviality. Ben must be dead on his feet by now. They'll go into the sitting room and wait for the second family. Caleb does not want to join them.

But Rachel will physically force him out if he stays too long. Wiping his hands down him front to brush the crumbs off, he's as ready as he'll ever be. He sits with the Nichols while the father talks to both Tallmadges. The daughters have been propped up on a couch opposite Ben, one next to where Caleb is in his chair. She's the younger, by the look of her.

She's also, he learns, fucking hilarious.

"And entire metre stick?"

"Yes. The only reason I'm not strapped to it is she realized I wouldn't be able to sit down." The girls leans a bit closer to whisper. "You wouldn't believe the ideas she had for my bosom."

Caleb holds in a burst of laughter. The girls looks as if she's just barely begun to grow. "You've still got some time to get your own. A friend of mine did most of her growing at the end of her teens. You're young to marry, too."

"I won't be expected to for another few years. This is just for fun." She turns as her mother hisses something to her. "Mother, if I could do that, I'd give myself the power of flight too." She turns back. "Please excuse me for a moment. I have to go make my wrists more elegant."

"Sounds exciting." He takes a large gulp of tea to stop from saying anything to the mother. She, however, has other plans, and takes the spot her daughter vacated. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Nichols. You're doing well?"

"Yes. I hope my daughter has been behaving herself?"

"She has. I enjoy speaking with her." He sets his cups aside. "It seems neither of us is fond of dinner parties, so if there's anyone she won't bother, it's me."

"I would rather you not encourage that." She's a woman made out of something tough, sitting perfectly straight and still. Someone, probably her own mother, was strict with her. Give her another ten years, and she'll have half the village under her thumb in lieu of her children. "She runs her mouth, and it will get her into trouble."

He used to say all sorts of things as a kid. "You mean she may make herself a spinster?" There had to be worse things.

"Mr. Brewster, my daughters cannot inherit, just as I could not. She will marry. Not to Colonel Tallmadge, but she will marry. I need her to start learning how to behave." Right. She returns to her original seat by Ben as her daughter returns. "Charlotte, what on earth too you so long?"

Caleb catches Ben's eye and make a face as he gets up to answer the door. It's the Purcells. Their daughter makes a straight shot towards Charlotte's sister, no doubt pleased to not have arrived first.

"They don't quite include you, then?"

"No. I'm still the annoying younger sibling." She's slumped a little, and Caleb realizes she's taken the ruler out of the back of her dress. "We get along better than we used to, though."

"And when your mother intervenes?"

She keeps a serious face. "My sister and I combined become my mother's arch nemesis. It's the only time we'd probably die for each other.  
 She tilts her head. "Maybe. Depends on the situation."

"I was warned you talk too much and say bad things. Maybe she's more focused on what you've been saying to _her_."

"Oh, she's heard it all."

Caleb snorts, drawing a glance from the rooms other occupants. He can imagine what was said. "Where do you get this attitude? I can't imagine you picking it up from your parents."

"Reading, mostly. I switch the books my father doesn't want me to read with similar looking novels. I've already read those. All the men get the best lines." She sighs dramatically. This girl is still a child. "He hasn't caught on yet, so at least there's that."

They could have used someone like her in the war. "If you ask, Ben would let you borrow some of his."

"I already have. He brings in some to the school house and my brother shares with me."

"Do you write, too?"

"I try. My mother always wants to read it when she catches me." Charlotte really does talk a lot, which Caleb comments on. "I don't get to talk much, either. At least not while I've got my parents around."

"What if you didn't have them breathing down your neck?" Chances are, she's thought about it for years.

"I'd do a lot. Probably just explore first. Meet more people, see more things. Get moving."

"Girl after my own heart. You could be my sister if you were a few years older." Caleb waves Ben over. "A bit of a sharper mouth, and you could have hidden in the brood for a few days before we noticed, at least. Ben, someone has been sneaking his sister some books."

"He seems like the kind that would." Ben smiles. "I'll send some more advanced volumes on through him. What are you interested in?"

"Everything." She says it earnestly, as if she thinks they won't believe her.

"There's a short work on the human circulatory system that I haven't given a chance yet. Some interesting volumes on the east and a few on modern engineering. Is that a good variety for you?"

She nods her head as her mother comes over, no doubt curious as to what's so interesting. "I'd go to university if it were allowed." Caleb makes a show of greeting her mother again. Charlotte seems in better spirits, regardless. Ben thanks her for telling him about the previous schoolmaster, and hopes that her brother has been keeping himself busy while on break. It seems to assuage any parental worries. For the time, anyway.

Rachel appears in the doorway, signaling that the table is set for the first course. There's a short to-do as they all file in and find their places. Ben's given up his place at the head of the table to his father, and has moved down two places. Caleb's across from him, and between Charlotte and Mrs. Purcell. The latter is content to herself, and doesn't take up any conversation. Thus, he can conspire with Charlotte and slide his foot out of his boot in order to run it up Ben's leg.

Ben if very obviously trying to bat his foot away without breaking conversation. He gives up against Caleb's perseverance to embarrass him and crosses one leg over the other. Having lost his entertainment, Caleb begins telling Charlotte a whaling story. He only gets a few minutes in before the other girls catch on. They all have questions; about the whales, the ships and harpoons, who does what, which parts can be sold to merchants and which are left for abandon. there isn't enough time to answer them all, and he doesn't want to have the entire dinner's attention, so he promises to explain more after they've eaten.

The Nichols daughters are smart. The older, Sybil, already has a model of how the money earned was divided, and it's fairly close to the truth. She didn't ask as much of a variety of questions as her sister, but she wanted details. She has a mind for business.

"Mr. Brewster," Purcell has taken a pause to pick a victim, "How badly neglected was the forge when you bought it?"

"Not too bad." Someone has been gossiping. "I'll have the place paid off soon, and I can start furnishing the flat above it. In the meantime, I'm being an unfortunate house guest."

The man laughs at that. "You've known Colonel Tallmadge since childhood, haven't you?"

"Yes. back then I was even more of a terror."

"Were they too much trouble?" Mrs. Nichols leans into speak to Ben's father. "From the talk, I'm getting a picture of boys running to a fro, hiding every left shoe and filling the ink pots with honey."

"More of general excitement. Mr. Brewster was a very curious child, and brought Benjamin with him to explore. Any pranks and tricks were usually between friends. It wasn't much of a surprise that he outgrew Setauket and venture out on the whaling ships."

"Was it dangerous?" Charlotte's drawn in again. "Those fish are so big, and don't some of the men drown?"

"They do." He can't go into too much detail here, and with a young lady. "The water if freezing, but if we can get them out fast enough, they can be saved."

"I was lucky Mr. Brewster had that experience in the Arctic. I fell into the Delaware during the war, on Christmas night. He saved my life."

That just makes Caleb's stomach wrench. those were a difficult few days. Ben had thanked and apologized to Caleb for months after he woke up, and the hurt of Ben's selfishness was eventually soothed. The fear that he still feels when he remembers how blue Ben's skin turned is still lurking, though. It likes to visit him in the night when Ben's cold finger or toes brush up against him and he fumbles about in a half dream, trying to figure out why they've moved from the fire.

"Really?" Charlotte is leaning forward on her elbows, and Mrs. Purcell reaches across Caleb to knock them back. "That's amazing!"

"It is." Tallmadge Sr. smiles at her. He didn't have a daughter, but Caleb can assume he would have been able to handle one like Charlotte after four sons. "I'm afraid I've already lost two of my children, but I haven't thanking Mr. Brewster for saving a third."

Now they're all staring at him, which is a terrible idea. Caleb loves being around people, but this mass attention just makes him nervous. "Well I couldn't let him drown, as reckless as he was on that boat. But really, this dinner is to welcome you. It's your first visit."

That gets the conversation back on track, and he can relax. The toes of a boot prods at his shin and he looks up to see Ben give him a small smile. He tries to return it and wills the universe to make Rachel clear the plates for dessert. It's another ten minutes before she appears, but she clears the table in two trips. This may be the longest dinner he's had to sit through.

They have to wait for everyone to finish eating before they can stand and go, but Caleb gets out a few minutes early by claiming he has a headache and dipping into the kitchen. Rachel has several piles of dishes and table linens, so he stands by the stove top while the coffee heats, out of her way.

He still manages to do so, however. Once he has a hot cup, she pushes him out the door in front of her. "I don't have time for this. _Go._ " She points through the doorway, where Caleb can hear the others milling about. "You can complain later."

"And here I was thinking you were enough of a friend to help me out." He stops stalling and edges his way into the room, hoping to not attract any attention. It's mildly effective, but he stays at the edge of the conversation for the most part. He and Ben have purple bags under their eyes, a free pass to be quiet and subdued. The girls seem to be growing weary too. They begin leaning from side to side for a few minutes at a time, as if they're trying to alleviate some back pain. He can't imagine that it does much. Their mothers are more resilient, and don't move from where they're perched. the men are free to stand as sit as they please.

Caleb had initially expected people with more malicious intent. That they'd be snooping around and asking questions to see if any suspicions could be confirmed. He whispers this to Ben, which is signing for his own death, because he makes it about five minutes before someone eavesdropping. He went out into the hall to stand with Rachel, who was brushing down a couple of the coats. The night was coming to a close, and it was the perfect time to start brand new conversations with Ben. Rather than sit through another ten minutes with the impatience of a five-year-old, Caleb ducked out.

"Was it as bad as you thought?" They're whispering, see as it's frowned upon to be so informal with a slave, particularly someone else's. "The way you were going on, I thought we'd need an undertaker by the morning."

"If I don't get to sleep soon, you may need to call for one."

"I don't see you leaving the Colonel a widower."

"Well, I've already decided that I'll be the first to go."

"Oh, really?" Rachel turns around to face him and her entire body tenses up, bringing her shoulders up to her ears. In the few seconds before Caleb thinks to look behind him, her expression morphs into terror.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to have Tallmadge Sr. reflect the socially expected response to homosexuality, but I couldn't see that agreeing with the love that he so obviously has for Ben on the show. Trying to mix the two, I came up with this.


End file.
